


Twilight: Re-imagined

by DontBlameMe4It



Series: Twilight: Re-Imagined [1]
Category: Life and Death - Stephenie Meyer, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:16:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 116,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontBlameMe4It/pseuds/DontBlameMe4It
Summary: "Beau," Bella said to me. "You don't have to do this." Her voice was honest, she wouldn’t make me go, but her eyes looked nervous like I might change my mind.Bella‘s face was a perfect mirror of mine. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. She knew my thoughts as well as I did."I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now. Almost."I can tell Charlie.""I want to go." I want to go, I want to go, I want to go. I put the lie on a loop track in my mind."Still," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come right back with you."But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise."Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great."She squeezed my hand tightly for a minute, and then opened the car door. I stared at the terminal, no turning back now.(A combination of Twilight, life and death, and other works in the series. Bella and Beau are twins. Beau hates forks until he meets the temperamental and beautiful Edward Cullen. fill in the blanks baby! this is the first in a two part series??) I own nothing.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Beau Swan, Jacob Black/Bella Swan
Series: Twilight: Re-Imagined [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025662
Comments: 48
Kudos: 85





	1. First Sight

The cab drove to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. Bella was wearing her favorite shirt - Cream, Trimmed with white lace. She held her backpack nervously. I leaned close to the window trying to put as much sun on my face as possible. I pushed up the sleeves of my black t-shirt, savoring the warmth. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me and Bella when We were only a few months old. It was in this town that We’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with us in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself - an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks.

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.

"Beau," Bella said to me. "You don't have to do this." Her voice was honest, she wouldn’t make me go, but her eyes looked nervous like I might change my mind.

Bella‘s face was a perfect mirror of mine. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. She knew my thoughts as well as I did.

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now. Almost.

"I can tell Charlie."

"I want to go." _I want to go, I want to go, I want to go._ I put the lie on a loop track in my mind.

"Still," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come right back with you."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great."

She squeezed my hand tightly for a minute, and then opened the car door. I stared at the terminal, no turning back now.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that we were coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence, even under the circumstances. He'd already gotten us registered for high school and was going to help Bella get a car. I had my motorcycle, not that I would get much riding time in Forks.

It was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. Hopefully Bella would fill the silences. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision to come with Bella. I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When we landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen — just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for us with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind convincing Bella to buy a car, despite my inability to ride anywhere in the soaking cold, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Beau," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. I half smiled and slipped out of the way so he could hug Bella. “How was the flight?”

"The flight was fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face. We had only a few bags. Most of our Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. Bella and I had pooled our resources to supplement for a winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" Bella was suspicious of the way he said "good car for you" as opposed to just "good  
car."

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

“With the girls?” Bella asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” Charlie’s was pleased she remembered. Bella was happy to make him happy.

Fishing? That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping  
I wouldn't ask. Bella looked at me, don’t be rude, her eyes said.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?" Bella kicked me.

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and We couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Beau, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore. Safer than a motorcycle….”

Charlie had not been thrilled at my condition to bring my bike along.

"How cheap is cheap?" Bella rejoined the conversation.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at her with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free. The air was gone from the backseat. No one took care of us but…. well us.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car." Bella said quietly.

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. We really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me, and neither did Bella.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

Bella and Charlie exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for Conversation. I stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was too green — an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, three-bedroom house that he'd bought with  
my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was the new — well, new to us— truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise Bella seemed to love it. It wasn’t anything I would consider worthwhile, but Bella’s face was full smile. I could see her in it. Charlie was right about safety, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Bella said, running her hands on the door. At least my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. It took only one trip to get all our stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard.

The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue  
walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed curtains around the window — these were all a part of my  
childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a suggestion from Bella, trying her best to make me at home. The rocking chair from our baby days was still in the corner. Bella noted that she had an upholstered chair in her room and we quickly agreed to switch. Bella’s room was directly across from mine, and had the same layout except from a large corner bookcase. It was filled with every paperback Bella could get her hands on. Books took her a world away.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Bella. We had shared before but this one was much smaller with no storage whatsoever.

I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact. At least Charlie had his own bathroom attached to the bedroom downstairs.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left us alone to unpack and get settled. It was nice to be alone, not to have to  
smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-nine —  
students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together.

I would be the new kid from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. But then again, so would Bella. Misery really does love company.

Maybe, if I looked like a guy from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond — maybe run track or be a sports star— all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant  
sunshine. I had always been in shape, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the  
necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both myself  
and anyone else who stood too close.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and  
went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the  
mirror and shoved a hand through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be nice— it was very clear, almost translucent-looking — but it all depended on color. I had no color here.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just  
physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even Bella , who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never completely in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.  
I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished us good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. Bella went back upstairs to finish getting ready. After they left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor.

Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring  
some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room  
was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the  
Four of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of  
school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I  
could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable. Maybe he knew her when she was someone else. Before I could think too long down that path Bella came back downstairs, her mind racing from nerves.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket —  
which had the feel of a biohazard suit — and herded Bella out the door into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new timberland duck boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and question the truck and it’s abilities; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

“Are you ready?” Bella looked almost excited but I knew it was anxiety bouncing her up and down, not glee. I nodded.

You don’t have to do this. Bella and I had always had more conversations with our eyes than our words. One look was all it would take for her to know how miserable I was. I looked straight ahead and shrugged so she couldn’t see.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan  
upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to  
have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though We’d never been there before. The school was, like most other  
things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made us stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with  
maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

Bella parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one  
else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but Bella wanted get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door. Bella went in ahead of me.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with  
padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan, and this is Beau" Bella informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. We were expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Children of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she  
found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedules right here, and a map of the school." She  
brought several sheets to the counter to show us.

She went through classes for Bella first and then me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave each of us a slip to have each teacher sign, which we were to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped,like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.  
When We went back out to the truck, other students were starting to arrive. We drove around the school,  
following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older, nothing flashy. At home We’d lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, Bella cut the engine as soon as she was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention. She smiled nervously.

“Are you going to make a run for it now?”

“It’s a consideration”

“It’s weird to be here, right?”

“Very.” Bella Rung her hands together, she wanted a different answer. I tapped the back of her hand with my finger. It was our way of saying I’m right here, something we had done ever since we were kids. She smiled.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I looked over at Bella, she was biting her lip and looking straight ahead. I managed to catch her attention.

It’s going to be fine. She registered the unspoken gesture and unclenched. With disdain I stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Bella turned towards her first building and tapped the back of my hand with her ring finger. She disappeared into the sea of jackets.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a  
white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I  
approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats  
on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other  
also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare,  
Chaucer, Faulkner. Bella already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if Bella would give me her folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Beaufort Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Beau," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"I’m part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix.

A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the  
door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together."

He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch.

She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. I found Bella in the lunch line with her own chaperone, who excitedly announced she knew mine.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of their friends. I forgot all their names as soon as they were spoken but I saw Bella try to keep up. They seemed overjoyed to have not one, but both twins sitting with them. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room. Bella did her best to make friends for the both of us. It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying not to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room.

There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter,  
with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students  
living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruise like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Like their noses, all their features were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why I couldn't look away. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from my tone — suddenly  
he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for  
just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my  
eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest — it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

"They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children." Twins, huh.

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely Bella or I would have noticed them on one of our summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just  
moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that Bella and I weren’t the only newcomers here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't let your sister waste her time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his  
cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful —even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I knew the real reason was my hesitation to leave Bella. Lunch had anchored me back in my comfort zone and I was reluctant to leave the safe harbor. Bella was anxious not to be late for class on her first day and finally decided to leave despite my eyes pleading. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately  
reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. She suggested we leave as well. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table.

The girl sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my shirt. It smelled like detergent. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I rested my head on my right hand, making a blinder between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through my fingers at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly brother.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought. It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd thought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

"Aren't you Beaufort Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Beau," I corrected him.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "I would have talked to you. I would’ve made friends with you, best friends.” The way he said it made me feel a prize to be won. A prize he had just declared dibs on.

I smiled at him and followed through the locker room door. He was friendly and clearly I wasn’t wholly unpleasant to him.

But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of PE. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained— and inflicted — playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time.

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling around my face. Bella stepped in and shook off her jacket. Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door. Bella looked at me, _what was that_? I shrugged.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When we got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. Bella chatted with some people outside, trying her best to fit in quickly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I knocked on the window and beckoned her in.

We headed back to Charlie's house, Bella sung along to the radio. I didn’t open my mouth, I was fighting tears the whole way there.


	2. OPEN BOOK

The next day was better… and worse.

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier  because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; I had missed the memo about their rivalry. Bella confirmed my suspicions from yesterday, apparently I was the cool new thing and the guys wanted to be cool by association. High school politics she had called it. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Bella, Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it.

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was  worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong  answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.

All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to confront him and  demand to know what his problem was. While I was lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I  would say. But I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like the terminator.

But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely — I saw that his four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.  Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting  nervously for the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he would simply ignore me when he came, and prove my suspicions false.

He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Edward Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike and Eric, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, and every opinion seemed universally shared, I wondered how I would be accepted. I had never been enormously tactful; He seemed friendly enough but I knew how fast boys could change when they learned you were gay. He wanted me to be his bro, and while I didn’t mind friends, they often weren’t worth the trouble of losing. Maybe I should just stay in the closet til college. 

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true. Maybe, my thoughts circled back, he does know your secret. Maybe he can tell you’re gay and he’s already decided he hates you. I shook my head. 

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks from the volleyball  incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and navy blue sweater. I hurried from the locker  room, pleased to find that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in the truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.

Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I requested  that I be assigned kitchen detail. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house. So I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was dragging Bella to the Thriftway.

Bella gunned the deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in our direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As we waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before — I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here.

No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.

They looked at the noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be  inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.

“Can we get Oreos?” Bella had her hands full of snacks already but moved to grab the cookies. She wasn’t used to not having a budget and looked excitedly at all the options. I smiled, it seemed she was reclaiming childhood moments lost. 

“Get it all.” I threw a bag of chips in the cart without looking. She laughed. 

When We got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I  hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a  steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.  When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed  into a pair of dry sweats, and pushed my damp hair back. 

“Beau” Bella called from downstairs, “Come here I want to show you something.” I shuffled downstairs to where she stood holding a bandana. She pulled me over and tied it around my eyes like a blindfold. 

“Um”

“Shut up and don’t ruin this.” She led me outside and through the grass. The wet lawn felt like ice on my bare feet.

“Are you taking me to the woods to kill me?” I asked flatly, trying to smother the eager hope she would say yes. She laughed. I heard Charlie’s shed door open. She uncovered my eyes. 

“TADA!” Inside the small shed was my motorcycle. She was new but I had invested enough sweat and hours into it to make her run smoothly. Behind the bike I saw an easel and some assorted canvases. 

“We’ll have to sweep it out and maybe clean it up a little bit it’s separate and quiet and…you always spent so much time out in the garage back in Pheonix” She didn’t call it home purposely “I know you were just trying to escape the house but I thought maybe here, you know, it could be like a studio or something… it could be happy.” She talked way too much when she was nervous. 

“It’s perfect Bells” And I meant it. It was small and dirty and only had two tiny windows, but it was mine. She smiled and opened two large boxes sitting on an old work bench. Inside I found all my old paints and supplies. 

“How?”

“I mailed them to Charlie when we packed up the house.” I tapped the back of her hand, she tapped mine. 

We were cleaning and reorganizing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time,  and I hurried inside to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil while Bella met him in the driveway.

"Beau" my father called out when he heard me clang in the kitchen.

Who else? I thought to myself.

"Hey, Dad, welcome home."

"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When we came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back.

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to  watch TV while I worked. Bella followed after him and recounted her day. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or his genuine interest that made her so chatty. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table. 

I called them in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

"Smells good"

"Thanks."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together. Bella however shifted anxiously, not sure what our silence meant.

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception.

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid — nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man."

"They… the kids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school." Charlie surprised me by looking angry.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any  hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him — lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should —camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people  were saying. Bella was shaken by the change in his tone and immediately tried to intervene. 

"They seemed nice enough to me.” 

“I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the  nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around."  We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. Bella cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went  upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. Bella lingered downstairs and read a book on the couch. I could feel a tradition in the making.

That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday Bella was able to  recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.

Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Then I  could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more because of a promise to Bella than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry.

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Edward would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and spent time in what was now referred to as my studio. Bella and I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that She didn't bother to get a card; We would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore she said. Maybe an art shop as well. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered at the thought.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back  and smiled at everyone. I had a feeling they were really trying to impress Bella and cared little about me at all. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy. Bella had made sure I knew the book. 

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More  comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting  excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"Ew." Snow. There went my good day.

He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes — you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips."

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us — in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike appatently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside."

He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year, even Bella. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.

I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table Jessica pulled on my arm.

"Hello? Beau? What do you want?"

I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't

done anything wrong.

"What's with him?" Mike asked Jessica.

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the line.

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet.

I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Jessica asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I felt a new problem arising between us as she touched my arm gently.

I told her it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for

the next hour.

Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.

I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little.

They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow.

Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were

enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided — flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.

"Beau, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.

I dropped my head, running my hand across my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.

"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?"

"I don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they didnt used too. But he's still staring at you." She fluffed her hair as if he was staring at her instead. 

"Stop looking at him," I hissed.

She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed less than enthusiastically. The way Mike looked at her left little doubt that he would change every plan he had if she asked. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.

For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the  bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did  frightened little flips at the thought of sitting next to him again. I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed to be a popular target for the  snowball snipers — but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was  raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym.

Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking  around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.  I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the  pattern I was drawing.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk  allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he  looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a  slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Beau Swan."

My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He was perfectly polite now. I  had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything conventional to say.

"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.

He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

I grimaced. I knew it was something like that.

"No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Beau?"

He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Beaufort?"

"No, I like Beau," I said. "But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — must call me Beaufort behind my back — that's what everyone here seems to know me as," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.

"Oh." He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we  would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to  separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them  accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to  see who had it right.

"Get started," he commanded.

" Shall we?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile so beautiful that

I could only stare at him like an idiot.

"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously wondering if I was mentally competent.

"No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly.

My assessment was confident. "Prophase."

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the  microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.

"Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily.

"Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.

I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?"

He smirked and pushed the microscope to me.

I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it, he was right.

"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him.

He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch my skin again.

I took the most fleeting look I could manage.

"Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it. He took a swift peek, and then  wrote it down. I would have written it while he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me. I  didn't want to spoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table.

Which left me with nothing to do but try to not look at him… unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and he was  staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly I identified that subtle  difference in his face.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.

He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No."

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

He shrugged, and looked away.

In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me — the color was striking against the background of his pale skin and his  auburn hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. I didn't understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense of the word.

I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked over our shoulders to  glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

"So, Edward, didn't you think Beaufort should get a chance with the microscope?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Beau," Edward corrected automatically. "Actually, he identified three of the five."

Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical.

"Have you done this lab before?" he asked.

I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?"

  
  


"Yeah."

Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I began doodling on my notebook again.

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I had the feeling that he was forcing himself to  make small talk with me. Paranoia swept over me again. It was like he had heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong.

"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.

  
  


"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

"Or the wet."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.

"You have no idea," I muttered darkly.

He looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine. His face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded.

"Why did you come here, then?"

No one had asked me that — not straight out like he did, demanding.

"It's… complicated."

"I think I can keep up," he pressed.

I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.

"My mother died," I said.

"That doesn't sound so complex," he disagreed, but he was suddenly sympathetic. "I’m sorry for your loss When did it happen?"

“ A month ago.” My voice sounded sad,it surprised me.

"And you miss her," Edward surmised, his tone still kind.

"No, I mean yes she was my mom but no." I felt as if English was my second language. He seemed confused at my answer but moved on. 

"Why Are you here now?"

I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life's  story was somehow vitally important.

"My dad lives here and Bella wanted to move here, so I’m here." I half-smiled.

"Bella, your sister right?" he asked, smiling in response.

"Yes"

"So she made you move." He said it as an assumption again, not a question.

My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not. I moved myself."

His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and he seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity.

"She stayed with me at first. As I talked about emancipation. But she was unhappy, she still dreamed we could have a family.” My voice was glum by the time I finished.

"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"And?" I challenged.

"That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.

I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agreed dryly.

"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at me that way.

His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that  you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-year-old, and looked away.

"Am I wrong?"

I tried to ignore him.

"I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.

"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his  rounds.

"That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that I wondered if he was talking to himself.

However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get.

I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.

"Am I annoying you?" he asked. He sounded amused.

I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my sister always know what I’m thinking, I’m like an open book." I frowned.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and he'd guessed, he sounded like he meant it.

"You must be a good reader then," I replied.

"Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.

Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise me. He'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.  I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable.

When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him in amazement.

Mike came to my table defensively, as if he thought My best friend vacancy might have been filled. I imagined him holding me like a trophy. 

"That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a  partner."

"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, stung by his assumption. I regretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added before he could get his ego hurt.

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.

I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with him last Monday."

I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and He didn't do much to hold my  attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He covered my position as well as his own, so my thoughts was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up.

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home. I waited for Bella to join me, knowing she would be slow to leave her friends.

That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw my face to the right to look out the side window. My head hit the glass with a small thump - I was closer to the door than I anticipated. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and waited for Bella to arrive. When she finally did I stared straight ahead as We passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing.

  
  
  



	3. Phenomenon

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.

It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog veiling my window.

I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. But that  wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid — coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for me to go back to bed now.

“Beau! Do you see it? Snow!” Bella was too cheerful for how early it was. 

Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with Charlie was like having our own place, and I found myself reveling in the aloneness instead of being lonely.

I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton. I felt excited to go to  school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn't the stimulating learning environment I was anticipating, or  seeing my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school  because I would see Edward Cullen. 

And that was very, very stupid.

I should be avoiding him entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday. And I was  suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes? I was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from him, and I was still tongue-tied whenever I pictured his perfect face. I was well aware that my league and his league were spheres that did not touch. So I shouldn't be at all anxious to see him today.

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my  balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself. Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish.

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my fear of falling and my unwanted speculations about  Edward Cullen by talking to Bella about Mike and Jessica , and the obvious difference in how teenagers responded to us here. I was sure I acted exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the girls back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly it was because the girls who liked me back home knew I would rather be liked by their boyfriends. Whatever the reason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Jessica’s apparent flirting were disconcerting. I wasn't sure if I didn't prefer being ignored. 

The truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. Bella drove very slowly,  though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street.  When I got out of the truck at school, I saw why We’d had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck — carefully holding the side for support — to examine the tires. Bella bounded off to talk to Angela a few spots down. T here were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on the truck. My throat suddenly felt tight. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in the movies.

Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in  clear detail several things at once.

Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of the truck, and I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt  something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd  parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming. It  had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with  me again.

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize.

Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.

Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and  something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt — exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.  It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could  hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward

Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Beau? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, and realized he was holding me against the side of his body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my left ear.

"Ow," I said, surprised.

"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter.

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did you get over here so  fast?"

"I was standing right next to you, Beau," he said, his tone serious again.

I turned to sit up, and this time he let me, releasing his hold around my waist and sliding as far from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of his gold-colored eyes. What was I asking him?

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us.

"Don't move," someone instructed.

"Get Tayla out of the van!" someone else shouted.

There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward's cold hand pushed my shoulder  down.

"Just stay put for now."

"But it's cold," I complained. It surprised me when he chuckled under his breath. There was an edge to the sound.

"You were over there," I suddenly remembered, and his chuckle stopped short. "You were by your car."

His expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't."

"I saw you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene.

But I obstinately held on to our argument; I was right, and he was going to admit it.

"Beau, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He unleashed the full, devastating  power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

"No." I set my jaw.

The gold in his eyes blazed. "Please, Beau."

"Why?" I demanded.

"Trust me," he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.

I could hear the sirens now. "Will you promise to explain everything to me later?"

"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

"Fine," I repeated angrily.

It took six EMTs and two teachers — Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp — to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. Bella wouldn’t let go of my hand. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening.

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away.

"Beau!" he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.

"I'm completely fine, Char — Dad," I sighed. "There's nothing wrong with me."

“I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should’ve never made you come here.” Bella choked out. 

“Dad take Bella with you, please.”

“No I’m staying with you.”

“Dad.” Charlie looked at me and gently wrapped an arm around Bella’s shoulder to steer her away. 

He whispered quietly to her trying to calm her nerves. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward's shoulders… as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…

And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from  disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother's safety.

I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen — a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane.

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. I felt ridiculous the whole time they  were unloading me. What made it worse was that Edward simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power. I ground my teeth together.

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned  curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one  bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the  stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I  recognized Tayla Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped  tightly around her head. Tayla looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But she was staring anxiously at me.

"Beau, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Tayla— you look awful, are you all right?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding her soiled  bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over her forehead and left cheek.

She ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" She  winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me."

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone…"

"Umm… Edward pulled me out of the way."

She looked confused. "Who?"

"Edward Cullen — he was standing next to me." I'd always been a terrible liar; I didn't sound convincing at all.

"Cullen? I didn't see him… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?"

"I think so. He's here somewhere, but they didn't make him use a stretcher."

I knew I wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain away what I'd seen.

They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was nothing wrong, and I was right.

Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tayla’s constant apologies and promises to make it up to me.

No matter how many times I tried to convince her I was fine, she continued to torment herself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored her. She kept up a remorseful mumbling.

"Is he sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.

Edward was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking. I glared at him. It wasn't easy — it would have been more natural to ogle.

"Hey, Edward, I'm really sorry —" Tayla began.

Edward lifted a hand to stop her.

"No blood, no foul," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. He moved to sit on the edge of Tayla’s bed, facing me. He smirked again.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked me.

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I complained. "How come you aren't  strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, he was blond… and  he was handsomer than any movie star I'd ever seen. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Edward's father.

"So, Mr Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped.

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard."

"It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl toward Edward.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really." I'd had worse.

I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Edward's patronizing smile. My eyes narrowed.

"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel  dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be attentive and then remembering what Bella is like. I shook both away with equal horror.

"Maybe you should take it easy today."

I glanced at Edward. "Does he get to go to school?"

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edward said smugly.

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly  — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned.

"I'm fine," I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems had nothing to do with hitting my head.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a hard glance at the subject of my statement.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked  away, at Tayla, and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Tayla, and began checking the cuts.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed under my breath. He took a step back from me, his jaw  suddenly clenched.

"Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tayla.

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed.

He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As  soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.

His unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity than I'd intended. "You owe me an explanation," I reminded him.

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

I flinched back from the resentment in his voice. "You promised."

"Beau, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone was cutting.

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. "There's nothing wrong with my head."

He glared back. "What do you want from me, Beau?"

"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you."

"What do you think happened?" he snapped.

It came out in a rush.

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tayla didn't see you, either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all — and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…" I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad I could feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grinding my teeth together.

He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

I merely nodded once, jaw tight.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derision now.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger.

Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd better be a good reason why I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment."

We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in  danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.

He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

"I don't know," he whispered.

And then he turned his back on me and walked away.

I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could walk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Bella rushed to my side; I put up my hands.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured her sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." I sighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric  were all there, beginning to converge on us. "Let's go," I urged.

Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief— the first time I'd ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser.  We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. I was  positive that Edward's defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed.

When we got to the house, Bella finally spoke.

"Um… Do you want to leave" She hung her head, guilty.

“No.” I said, and I meant it. “This wasn’t your fault Bells” 

"Doesn’t make me less Sorry."

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out. Frustrated with my conversation with Edward in the hallway. 

Bella checked on me every 15 minutes, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She told me over and over I could go home — forgetting the fact that the house in Phoenix was sold— but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Edward presented. And more than a little obsessed by Edward himself.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ . I wasn't as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Bella continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep.

That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.


	4. Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im aware of the weird spacing. Whenever I get it over here from my docx it does this.

In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Edward's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned.

Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.

To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. Tayla Crowley was  impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow. I tried to convince her what I wanted more than anything else was for everyone to forget all about it — especially since nothing had actually happened to me — but she remained insistent. She followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Jessica were even less friendly toward him than expected, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.

No one seemed concerned about Edward, though I explained over and over that he was the hero —  how he had pulled me out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. I tried to be convincing. Jessica,  Mike, Eric, and everyone else always commented that they hadn't even seen him there till the van was  pulled away.

I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly,  impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause — no one else was as aware of  Edward as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.

Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account.

People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore.

When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.

He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tayla’s van — there was no other conclusion I could come to.

I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried. The last time I'd seen him,  outside the ER, we'd both been so furious. I still was angry that he wouldn't trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude.

He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn  toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.

"Hello, Edward," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.

He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the  other way.

And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day.

I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself— from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I watched as his golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. But in class I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me. I was miserable. And the dreams continued.

Mike, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. I could see he'd  been worried that Edward's daring rescue might have made us friends for life, and he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before  Biology class started, ignoring Edward as completely as he ignored us.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed.

Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask me to the girl’s choice dance. 

"Are you sure you don't want to come? Or is it someone else" she persisted when I told her I didn't have any interest in going.

"No, Jess, I'm not going, it’s just not my thing.” I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities.

"It will be really fun." Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. I suspected that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company.

"You should ask Mike," I encouraged.

The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn't her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was  silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to tell.  My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting  animatedly with Eric. Mike was unusually quiet.

Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he  didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was  electrically aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination.

"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."

"That's great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."

"Well…" He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. "I told her I had to think about it."

"Why would you do that?" I let disapproval color my tone, though I was relieved he hadn't given her an absolute no.

His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.

"I was wondering if… well, if you wanted to ask her."

I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me. But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward's head tilt reflexively in my direction.

"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said.

"Really? Awesome? Did you already ask someone?" Mike could barely contain his joy. If I had wanted her he would’ve bowed out to preserve our friendship, or at least the attention our friendship brought him. I thought of the bronze haired boy I’d like to ask.

"No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all."

"Why not?" Mike demanded.

I didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I quickly made new plans.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.

"Can't you go some other weekend?"

"Sorry, no," I said. "Besides you’ll hardly miss me with Jess there.” I tried my best to wink. 

"Yeah, you're right," he smiled, and turned, elated, to walk back to his seat. I closed my eyes and  pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to focus on something besides the image of Edward dancing. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened my eyes.

And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with  probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake.

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner. I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my head to lay on my left arm. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me — just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.

"Beau?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.

I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at his  too-perfect face. My expression was wary when I finally turned to him; his expression was unreadable.

He didn't say anything.

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited.

"Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him  coherently that way.

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded.

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before. He knew, he guessed that I was into him, and wanted nothing to do with me. 

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."

He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.

When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"

"I know you do," I snapped.

"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.

I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my books together, then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweep  dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and dropped  my books. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard.

"Thank you," I said icily.

His eyes narrowed.

"You're welcome," he retorted.

I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to Gym without looking back.

Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good,  but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me. Today I was worse than usual because my head was so filled with Edward. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into my thoughts just when I really needed my balance.

It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; there were just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. Charlie had to replace the taillights, and if  It had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tayla’s parents had to sell their van for parts.

I almost had a stroke when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just Angela. I started walking again.

"Hey, Angela," I called.

"Hi, Beau."

"What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door. Bella had grown accustomed to giving me the keys so I wouldn’t freeze while I waited. I wasn't paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in her voice, so her next words took me by surprise.

"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?" Her voice broke on the last  word. She was too nice for what was about to happen. 

"You dance?” It can out like an insult but I honestly couldnt imagine it. 

"Well, yeah," she admitted, shamefaced.

I recovered my composure and tried to make my smile warm. "Thank you for asking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day."

"Oh," she said. "Well, maybe next time."

"Sure," I agreed, and then bit my lip. I wouldn't want her to take that too literally.  She slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.

Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I  yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I honked the horn loudly to get Bella’s attention. She ran to the car.

“Are you okay?”

“Can we Go, now” I put emphasis on the last word and she revved the engine to life. Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of us, cutting us off. He stopped there — to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered leaning my leg over and slamming the gas pedal, taking out the rear of his shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Bella seemed not to notice and played with the radio.  Directly behind us, Tayla Crowley was in her recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to acknowledge her. 

While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of me, I heard a knock on the  passenger side window. I looked over; it was Tayla. I glanced back in my rearview mirror, confused.  Her car was still running, the door left open. I leaned against the door to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway down, then gave up.

"I'm sorry, Tayla I'm stuck behind Cullen." Bella was overly apologetic - obviously the holdup wasn't her fault.

"Oh, I know — I just wanted to ask Beau something while we're trapped here." She grinned.

This could not be happening.

"Will you go with me to the spring dance?" She continued.

"I'm not going to be in town, Tayla" My voice sounded a little sharp. I had to remember it wasn't his fault that Jessica and Angela had already used up my quota of patience for the day.

"Yeah, Mike said that," she admitted.

"Then why —"

She shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting the others down easy."

Okay, it was completely her fault.

"Sorry, Tayla," I said, working to hide my irritation. "I really am going out of town."

"That's cool. Hey maybe we can just hang out that night instead, catch a movie or..” She just kept listing date ideas over and over my head was pounding and I made the mistake of looking into the rear view mirror ahead of me. 

“IM GAY!” I shouted. Bella choked on her water at my outburst. Tayla didn’t know how to react.

“Cool?” She said it like a question. 

And before I could respond, she was walking back to her car. I could feel the shock on Bella’s face. I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Tayla had said. Next to me Bella was laughing too. 

“So smooth. You know, that’s how you should come out to people from now on.” I glared at her and considered, once again, slamming the gas pedal.  But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I rode home thinking slowly, carefully, and yet muttering to myself the whole way.

When We got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process, and it would keep me busy. While I was simmering the onions and chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie.

It was Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept her invitation. I  celebrated with her briefly while I stirred. She had to go, she wanted to call Angela and Tayla to tell  them. I suggested — with casual innocence — that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lance, a standoffish guy who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tayla; I'd heard they were both still available. Jess thought that was a great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she talked about setting the others up. I gave her my Seattle excuse. I waited for her to bring up my outburst in the parking lot but she never did.

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner — dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take  another trip to the emergency room. But my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward  had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends?

My stomach twisted as I went back over what he must have meant. He must see how absorbed I was by him; he must not want to lead me on… so we couldn't even be friends… because he wasn't interested in me at all. Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging — a delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't interesting. And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect…and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.

Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I would leave him alone. I would get through my  self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully some school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as I  finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven.

Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him —the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.

"Dad?" I asked when he was almost done.

"Yeah, Beau?"

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday… if that's  okay?" I didn't want to ask permission — it set a bad precedent — but I felt rude, so I tacked it on at  the end.

"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.

"Well, I wanted to get few art supplies and maybe look at some clothes." I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn't had to pay for half of the car. Plus a long ride up the coast sounded perfect. 

"Will Bella Drive you?” he asked. 

"I’ll take my bike.” 

“That’s a long trip, I can take you.” 

“No, that’s fine I’ve taken longer trips before.”

“Last time you took a long trip you were gone for three days and came back with a tattoo.” Bella reminisced. Charlie choked on a bite of chicken. 

“A what?!” Bella looked at me in horror, she didn’t know he wasn’t aware of my little bender.  _ Thank you so much, _ I glared. 

“It was a long time ago.” 

“Beau.” He’s blood pressure was rising by the minute. 

“No use fighting about it now.” I looked to Bella for help. 

“Right. Time, um, only moves one direction.” She said. 

_ What the hell does that mean?  _

_ I don’t know!  _ Looks moved between us. 

"Will you be back in time for the dance?” Charlie interjected. 

Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were.

"No — I don't dance, Dad." He, of all people, should understand that — I didn't get my balance  problems from my mother.

He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realized. He thought for a long moment while I held my breath. 

“Well I guess that fine but Beau….” he looked like a sheriff when he spoke “no tattoos.” I shook my head. 

The next morning, when We pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately planned to walk as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to put myself in the path of too much temptation. Bella tossed me the key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. Edward Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.

"How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation.

"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm.

"Appear out of thin air."

"Beau, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." His voice was quiet as usual — velvet,  muted.

I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be  pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

"That was for Tayla’s sake, not mine. I had to give her achance." He snickered.

"You…" I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of my anger should  physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued.

"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tayla’s van didn't do the job?"

Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.

"Beau, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.

My palms tingled — I wanted so badly to hit something. I was surprised at myself. I was usually a  nonviolent person. I turned my back and started to walk away.

"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered  his good humor.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.

"You're doing it again."

I sighed. "Fine then. What do you want to ask?"

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday — you know, the day of the spring dance —"

"Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. My face got drenched as I looked up at his expression.

His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"

I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn't do anything rash.

"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

That was unexpected.

"What?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

"With who?" I asked, mystified.

"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally  handicapped.

I was still stunned. "Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and you don’t drive."

"I'm going to take my motorcycle." He looked panicked. I started to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.

"Motorcycle?!" His voice was full shock and terror.

"Yes, Edward. It's like a bicycle, but it has a motor and it goes really, really fast." My anger wasn't far enough gone to avoid the taunt. 

He matched my pace again.

“And if it rains?” 

“ I guess I’ll take the truck.” I knew I wouldn’t take the truck but he didn’t have to know that. 

“But can the truck make it on one tank of gas?” 

"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and I hated it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." Heavy sarcasm. I realized I had stopped walking again. We  were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.

"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay

away from you, Beau."  His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn't

remember how to breathe.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.

I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded.  He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.

"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."  He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.


	5. Blood Type

I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already  started.

"Thank you for joining us, Me Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone. I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge  of panic. I knew by now my not so subtle coming out had been made public knowledge. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally shunned. 

Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for well, being me. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what  Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.

So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans — Tayla and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together — completely unaffected by my outburst yesterday.

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his table. The other four were  there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line,  crushed. I'd lost my appetite — I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down  and sulk.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my abstraction with his  name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit. "Um, I'd better go see

what he wants."

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.  When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.

I sat down automatically, watching him with caution. He was still smiling. It was hard to believe that  someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is different," I finally managed.

"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly." Did he really think having a gay friend was his ticket down? I thought of all the frustrating and rude things he had done. He should be more worried about his manners than my orientation. 

I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.

"I know." He smiled again, and then he changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.

"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes. I gulped.

He laughed. "You look worried."

"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what brought all this on?"

"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.

"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.

"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where  they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.

"You lost me again." I hoped this meant I was wrong about him wanting me. But I probably wasn’t. 

The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends…" he mused, dubious.

"Or not," I muttered.

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you."  Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice

even.

"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.

He smiled apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing

exchange.

"That sounds about right."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."  His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort.

"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," I admitted.

He chuckled. "What are your theories?"

I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. There  was no way I was going to own up to that.

"Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know," he complained.

"No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all —  just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?"

He grimaced.

"Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that person also did a wide  range of bizarre things — from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"Yeah, You want to see it?" I didn't know when the sudden courage would disappear and I wanted to use it while it lasted.

We stared at each other, unsmiling.

He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

"What?"

"Your girlfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you — she’s debating whether or not to come  break up our fight." He snickered again.

"I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway.” Had he not heard about yesterday? My theories unraveled.

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."

I had to look away from the intensity of his stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.

"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of him.

"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression — it looked like he was enjoying some private joke.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.

He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," I assured him.

He waited, guarded but curious.

"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.

"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.

"One."

"Tell me one theory."

Whoops. "Not that one."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," he reminded me.

"And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded him back.

"Just one theory — I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.

He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching.

"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.

I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crap, how did he do that?

"Er, what?" I asked, dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory." His eyes still smoldered at me.

"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?

"That's not very creative," he scoffed.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Damn," I sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," he chuckled.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"

He struggled to compose his face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.

"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.

"Because… ?"

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.

"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see." Maybe he thought he would corrupt me.  _ God I’d let him.  _ I blinked at my own intrusive thought. 

"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much.

"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words.

He was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all along, but not in the way I thought. 

He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.

"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. He looked down, stealing my bottle lid and then

spinning it on its side between his fingers. I stared at him, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. He meant what he was saying — that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near him.

The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," he said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but his eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," I told him. I had skipped class before in Phoenix, why didn’t I just do it now? Maybe his warning had sunk in.

He turned his attention back to his makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door — with a last glance confirming that he hadn't moved a centimeter.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been  answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me. For some reason I couldn’t understand Mike looked resentful; Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed.

Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard  boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber  gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator —" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "— and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to  you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares.

"Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…" He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed  the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the

blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my  eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission — I have slips at my desk."  He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.

"Beau, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance.

"Can someone take Beau to the nurse, please?" he called.

I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here, I thought. I'll crawl.

Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned  against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.

Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.

He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.

"And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. 

That seemed to help a little.

"Wow, you're green, Beau," Mike said nervously.

"Beau?" a different voice called from the distance.

No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong — is he hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it  I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

Mike seemed stressed. "I think he’s fainted. I don't know what happened, he didn't even stick his  finger."

"Beau." Edward's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I groaned. "Go away."

He chuckled.

"I was taking him to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but he wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take him," Edward said. I could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Edward had  scooped me up in his arms, and then placed me back on my feet.

"Let me lay down!” Please, please let me not vomit on him. He was walking before I was finished talking. My legs followed his steps unwillingly.

"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.

Edward ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, grinning.

"Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held me away from his body, gingerly, supporting all my weight with just his arm around my waist — it didn't seem to bother him.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertain him.

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips  together.

"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.

I don't know when he opened the door, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

"He fainted in Biology," Edward explained.

I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The  grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

"He’s just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

He muffled a snicker.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," she told him.

"I'm supposed to stay with him." He said this with such assured authority that — even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"I usually am — but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing evenly.

"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone made it sound like he was  confessing a humiliating weakness. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.

"Honestly — I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your

murder."

"Mike doesn’t dislike me that much." I wondered if he had heard something, if Mike had changed his mind behind my back about being my friend. 

"He absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully.

"You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if he could.

"I saw his face — I could tell."

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response — it surprised me.

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.

I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope  stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.

I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."

And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward and I drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Edward muttered. "Go out to the office, Beau."

I looked up at him, bewildered.

"Trust me — go."

I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edward right behind me.

"You actually listened to me." He was stunned.

"I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like me.

"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.

"Well, I can — that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."

He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edward. The look he gave Edward confirmed  what Edward had said about loathing. He looked back at me, his eyes unreadable.

"You look better," he accused.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another  glare toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

"See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly smiling and then as he walked slowly through the door he seemed to be himself. A swell of relief washed over me. We were still friends. I pondered trying to reconcile some more...in Gym.

"Gym," I groaned.

"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. "Go  sit down and look pale," he muttered.

That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed.

Fainting spells always exhausted me.

I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.

"Beau has Gym next hour, and I don't think he feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take him home now. Do you think you could excuse him from class?" His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn't I do that?

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Beau," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up  just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk."

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I  walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead, expressionless.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow  infinitesimally.

He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

I sighed. "I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." His eyes  danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.

"Mike-schmike." I muttered, preoccupied by the way he'd said "you and I." I liked it more than I should.

We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward the road. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one  hand. I was confused. "I'm going home."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home?" His voice was still indignant.

"I’ll walk!” I complained. For the first time since I’d been here a walk in the rain sounded good.

"I'll drive." He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.

"Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me — I stumbled against the passenger door.

"You are so pushy!" I grumbled.

"It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.

"I am perfectly capable of walking myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back.

He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Beau."

  
  


I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of running before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.

"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan.

I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. I wasn't very successful — I looked like a  half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.

"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.

He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" He sounded surprised, too.

"Not well," I admitted. "My mother played a lot of classical music around the house — I only know my  favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What was your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.

I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.

"She looked a lot like me, but prettier," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "I have too much Charlie in. She wasn’t a great mom, but she wasn’t a bad person. We fought a lot. Sometimes parents are just people who have kids, ya know? She never grew up, and I hated that she made us. Bella especially...” I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.

"How old are you, Beau?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine. He'd  stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could  barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen."

His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.

"What?" he asked, curious again.

"Bella always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I  laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone had to be the adult, I tried to make sure one of us got a childhood. I tried and failed of course, but I tried." I paused for a second. "You don't seem  much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted.

He made a face and changed the subject.

"So why did Bella want to move here?"

I was surprised he would remember; I'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

“We kind of missed out on the family experience. I think she thought with Charlie we could have another shot at it." I shook my head. This is not a conversation I thought I’d be having. 

"You would do anything for her." he said straightforward. 

"Of course" I countered. "I want her to be happy… and this is what she wants."

"That's very generous… I wonder," he mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter what your choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.

"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But she’s a worrier."

"Nothing too scary then," he teased.

I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?" I thought of my conversation with Charlie last night, and laughed at my own inside joke. 

"That's one definition, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

But he ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I could be scary?" He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to."

"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

"No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.

"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract him. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now." 

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.

"Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.

"And you probably want to rest up before Charlie gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned at me.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.

He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.

"Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn't too  apparent in my voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.

I nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet.  So… try not to fall into the ocean or wreck your bike or anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly.

  
  


The helplessness had faded as he spoke. I glared at him.

"I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with  excessive force.

He was still smiling as he drove away.


	6. Scary Stories

As I sat in my studio, trying to concentrate on the brooding eyes on my canvas, I was really listening for the truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the window — again — it was suddenly there. Bella went inside instead of looking for me, I was grateful for the solitude.  I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations. Of course there  were the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Did I?" I kept my expression blank.

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."

"Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently — I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn't going to be there, I still hoped.

When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.  At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a  great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I  believed it. But it was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely  miserable.  I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lance during lunch, which I didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind him, just a foot from his slick, silver blond hair, and he was evidently unaware of that.

"…don't know why Beau" — he sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with the Other freaks from now on."  I heard him muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice he had, and I was  surprised by the malice in it. I really didn't know him well at all, certainly not well enough for him to dislike me — Or so I thought. 

"He’s my friend; he sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, I was glad again to hear we were still friends. Still I paused to let Bella and Angela catch up with me. They were making plans for a sleepover tonight. I was eager to be a part of their happy conversation instead. 

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about our trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving us home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah — why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light  streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again. A thought occurred to me then, it was finally nice enough to ride my motorcycle. I got ready as quickly as possible. 

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there — not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time . In the parking lot I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tayla’s Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban eyeing me in awe. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lance. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave me a dirty look as turned of the motorcycle’s engine, and whispered something to Lance.

Lance shook out his cornsilk hair and eyed me scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days.

At least Mike was happy to see me.

"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"

"I told you I was coming," I reminded him.

“Nice motorcycle.” Mike was eyeing it lustfully. 

“Thanks.” 

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone," Mike added.

"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in the lie. But also wishing that a miracle would occur, and Edward would appear.  Mike looked satisfied.

“Hey!” Bella and Angela had arrived. Mike called out hellos. 

"Cool, Will you ride in my car Beau? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan." Mike turned his attention back to me.

"Actually I’m going to follow.” I pointed back to my bike. 

He hit his forehead as if to say 'DUH' and smiled. 

"I’ll ride with you!” Tayla shouted from behind me. I hid my chagrin. Lance sneered.

“Um, I don’t have a helmet for you sorry.” 

“You don’t wear one!” 

“True, but Beau is too much of a gentleman to let you ride without one, right Beau?” Bella said, my savior.

“Of course.” Tayla seemed deflated but agreed to sit in the back of the suburban by Bella and, Conveniently, by Lance.  Tayla could have been more graceful about it, but at least Lance seemed appeased.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad to be on the bike alone. I let the sun soak my skin. 

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the  mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. I’ll paint this later I thought happily.

The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while  seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at  any moment, but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.  We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had  obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of the bone-colored  benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire,  lighting one of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first.

The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise.

"The salt does it. Cool, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and  then came to sit by me. Thankfully, Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his  attention. Bella sat on my other side and consumed Angela in a discussion on classic lit. I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma.  On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edward's request — that I not fall into the ocean.  Lance was the one who made my decision for me. He didn't want to hike, and he was definitely  wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls besides Angela and Bella decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tayla and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile when he saw that I was coming.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea.

Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return.

I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if he were here with me. Bella interrupted my thoughts.

“Remember coming here?” She asked with a smile.

“Yeah.”

“It’s different now.” I looked at her confused. It all seemed brilliantly the same to me. 

“How so?” 

“It’s like, I’m seeing it with new eyes.” She shrugged.

“You’ve seemed like a new you since we got to Forks.” My comment worried her.

“A bad new?”

“Nah, a good new. The kind of new you deserve.” She smiled and we both looked back into the pool saying nothing.

Finally the boys were hungry, and we got up stiffly to follow them back. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the  knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.  When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Bella and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at us in interest. I sat down next to Bella. and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.

It was relaxing to sit with Bella; she was familiar and calming, and with school keeping us busy it seemed like ages since we spent this kind of time together. She looked at me as if she felt the same way. After that She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single  images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant,  etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun  momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting by Bella on my driftwood log, with Lance and Tayla occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place on the other side of Bella.  He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin.  Altogether, a very pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the first  words out of his mouth.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Bella," She sighed.

"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

  
  


"Oh," She said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," Bella suddenly recalled. I remembered now too. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.

"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I would recognize them now.

"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.

"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.

"I love it. It runs great." Bella jumped back in eager for some reason to steer the conversation. 

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," She objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," She admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

Bella couldn't help grinning back. Suddenly the reason was clear. I broke their longing eye contact.

"It does great in a collision," I offered in the truck's defense. Jacob snapped back. 

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" Bell asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a  master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.

"Sorry," she laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if she knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.

He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at Bella appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lance asked — in what I imagined was an insolent tone — from across the fire.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at me again.

"How nice." He didn't sound like he thought it was nice at all, and his pale, fishy eyes narrowed.

"Beau," he calledto me this time, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tayla that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" His expression of concern was unconvincing.

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before I could respond, much to Lance’s irritation. He was really closer to a man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?" He asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question.

Tayla, trying to win back his attention, asked Lance’s opinion on a CD he held. He was distracted.

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more — that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success.

Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. He grinned understandingly.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better ideas. I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so that he wouldn't see what I was doing. I hoped Bella would go along just to be near him. 

"Do you guys want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to nod my head towards Bella subtly. He didn’t understand me, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up willingly enough anyways. Bella joined him and looked back at me,  _ thank you  _ her eyes whispered.

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look too interested.

"I just turned fifteen," he confessed, flattered.

"Really?" Bella caught her cue. "I would have thought you were older."

"I'm tall for my age," he explained.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a yes. I sounded idiotic to  myself. I was afraid he would catch on to the subtle baiting.

"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," he amended.

“Oh that would be really fun. Until then if you wanted, I could come down here in the truck.” Bella was tripping over words trying not to sound too eager, and failing. She looked sideways at me  _ Help!  _

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us." I  purposefully spoke a little louder to make sure he changed conversation with me.

"That's Sam — he's nineteen," he informed me.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked innocently.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?"

He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile trustworthy, wondering if I was laying it on too thick. 

He smiled back, though. Then he lifted one eyebrow and his voice was even huskier than before.

"Do you like scary stories?" he asked Bella ominously.

"I love them," She enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.

Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while Bella sat beneath him on the body of the tree. I stood back just within listening distance. He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. I focused on keeping the vital interest I felt out of my eyes.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Quileutes, I mean?" he began.

"Not really," Bella admitted.

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — supposedly, the  ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." He smiled, to show us how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.

"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower. Bella giggled.

"The cold ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent.

According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the  treaty that kept them off our land." He rolled his eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" Bella encouraged.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

I stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as genuine interest.

"So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to  our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their  kind did — they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce  with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces."

He winked at Bella, she blushed.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried to understand, struggling not to let him see how  seriously I was considering his ghost story.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was.  You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of  menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?" Bella’s interest in Jacob was keeping the story going for me at this point.

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals  instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your greatgrandfather met?"

"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his story. He smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my  great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." He was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

He smiled darkly.

"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires." Bella gasped on cue.

I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was exposing.

"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly while softly touching her arm. I had goosebumps too, but for a different reason.

"You're a good storyteller," Bella complimented him.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."

"I guess I just violated the treaty," he laughed.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"We won't, of course not." Bella promised for both of us

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he asked in a playful tone, but with a  hint of worry. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean. I thought about answering but Bella was one step ahead. 

"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?" She held up her arm hoping he would touch it again.

"Cool." He smiled.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was  approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away,  walking toward us.

"There you are, guys," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his head.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked nervously.

"No, definitely not," Bella whispered. 

"So when I get my license…" he began.

"You should come see us in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I said this, knowing  that I'd used him. But I really did like Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with. Bella on the other hand nodded fiercely in agreement.  Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see his eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obvious youth.

"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of him.

"Jacob was just telling us some local stories," I volunteered. "It was really interesting. Jacob, this is my good friend Mike.” I added just for Mike’s benefit. I knew he liked feeling like number one.  I smiled at Mike warmly, and he grinned back. Then he slapped my hand in a handshake we’d never done before. There was no limit to how hard Mike would try to impress someone, even a stranger like Jacob. 

"Well," Mike paused and looked at the sky. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming." I certainly did not want to ride in the rain. 

"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said, and I could tell he was just talking to Bella.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," She promised.

His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added earnestly.

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were  beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to the Cars the others were already loading everything back in. I climbed on the bike and got it started. I took off not bothering to wait for the convoy. The rain picked up slightly but I didn’t slow down. I let the forest and road bleed together and tried very hard not to think.


	7. Nightmare

I told Charlie I had wanted to go sketch the ocean, and that I didn't want anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone.

Once in my studio, I closed the door and turned on the work lights. I dug through my pockets until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my phone. I didn’t know what to listen to so I shuffled everything I had. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I pulled out my sketch book but I couldn’t draw a single line. I shut my eyes.

I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to find something numbing enough. By the third time I skipped I found the right song.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think — which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the song again and again, until I was singing along. Somewhere around the 7th time through, I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.

"Run, Beau you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.

"This way!" I recognized Bella’s voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn't see her.

"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun.

But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror.

"Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The

wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs.

"Beau, run!" Bella cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. I was watching a light coming toward me from the beach.

And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black and dangerous.

He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to him. The wolf growled at my feet.

I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.

"Trust me," he purred.

I took another step.

The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular.

"No!" I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.

My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the Phone off the work table, and it clattered to the cement floor. My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on a stool in the studio, I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my phone. It was eleven at night. I groaned, rolled my neck, and headed up to bed. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and over again. I pulled the pillow down over my eyes. It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. I stood staring into my own green eyes for a moment. Then spent some time pushing my hair from one side to the other. I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.

I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed — something I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.

I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my Phone first and Shuffled my music. With sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.

Vampire.

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through —everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.

Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished — simple white background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:

Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague Summers

If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires? —Rousseau

The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible.

It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood. Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.

About this last there was only one brief sentence.

Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading — vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night. Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly.Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day ride.

I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door. It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays. There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days.

There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree — I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss — rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree.

This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind.

Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me. Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom.

I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly.

First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true.

Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more — small things that registered slowly — how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way be sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking… except me. He had told me he was the villain, dangerous…

Could the Cullens be vampires?

Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward

Cullen was not… human. He was something more.

So then — maybe. That would have to be my answer for now.

And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true?

If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words — then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone — and mean it this time.

I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option.

I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister, he'd done nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tayla’s fender if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted.

My head spun around in answerless circles.

There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of "no" to my lips. It was fear that he would be harmed — even as he called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for him.

And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew — if I knew — I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even if… but I couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks.

It was just 10 am when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, track pants and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since… well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest. That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.

And so the day was quiet, productive — Bella helped me finish and edit my paper by eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle nextweek. The chills that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken The walk with Jacob Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid— I knew I should be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear.

I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I ran to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window — surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years — and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yes," I agreed with a grin.

“You should take your bike today.” His comment shocked me, he hated the motorcycle.

“Oh I plan on it.” I smiled.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same color, if not the same texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now. I wondered if it had faded away because my mother taken it. Trying to remain perpetually young and careless cost a heavy price, and it was always those around her who had to pay it. I stopped my train of thought. Nothing would ruin today, nothing. 

I returned to eating breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window.

Bella came down nicely, but casually dressed.

“Are you going fishing soon dad?”

“Yes.” He looked nervously at her, wondering if she might want him to stay.

“Down at the reservation with Billy?” Charlie’s nodded not following the conversation.

“Do you think maybe I can come with?”

“Sure thing, I think I’ve got extra gear somewhere.” Bella smiled, she cared less about fishing and more about keeping her promise to Jacob. 

Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months. I hurried quickly to the studio and threw the door open. The ride yesterday reminded me just how much I missed it. 

“Bella do you want to ride with me?” 

“I don’t care where we move it’s never cool to ride a motorcycle with your brother.” She laughed, I joined her. 

By dint of much elbow grease, Bella was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I revved the engine and met her in the driveway. 

_Go ahead._ Her eyes told me. I was gone. The air whipped against my face. I was the most ungraceful poorly balanced person I knew but riding my bike I felt completely different. I was in a different dimension, locked into the road and steady. It was my favorite feeling in the world. 

I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done — the product of a slow social life — but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.

"Beau" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.

I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this.

He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, the sun put everyone in a good mood. 

"Your hair is brown.”

“Nothing gets past you Mike.” I became just a little uncomfortable as he slapped my back and sat down to close. 

“You know what I mean.” I did know, my hair is so dark it usually looks black. 

"Great day, isn't it?"

"My kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.

"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it — no need to sound smug.

He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah — that's due Thursday, right?"

"Um, Wednesday, I think."

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?"

"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic."

He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin.

"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I was going to ask you if it’s okay to ask Bella out."

"Oh." I was taken off guard. No one had ever asked me to date Bella. 

"Well, we could go to a movie or something… and I could work on it later." He smiled at me hopefully.

"Mike…" I thought of Jacob, maybe I could repay him for his storytelling. “I think you should ask Jessica instead.” 

His face fell. "What?" he asked, his eyes guarded.

"I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat you to death," I threatened, "but I think that Jessica is into you, like really into you."

He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"

"Really, Mike, are you blind?"

"You really think she’s into me?” I nodded and he looked very appeased. He was more unaware than I thought. 

“Well I’ll have to do something quick. She's hot.” He shoved me playfully. I was suddenly happy Bella wasn’t into him. 

"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag, not wanting this to turn into a session on dating advice. 

We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Bella were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I obviously didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some friends, but Bella hadn’t even told me herself that she was going. Did she want alone time with the girls?. And who knew what I could be doing tonight… But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Bella first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens — to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me — would Edward be waiting to sit with me again?

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled — Spanish had made us late — but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.

I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I steered Bella away from an empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I winked when I noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response. Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself.

I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. I revved the bike engine and got many appreciative and somewhat jealous stares from the other students. I raced out of the parking lot and down the road. Who knew when I’d be able to ride again. I let my mind shut off and the bike speed climb. My heart beat wildly inside my chest. Adrenaline had a way of erasing everything, no thoughts of Forks, no school work, no beautiful boy in biology. I rode for close to an hour. 

Right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner — I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on — but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

“Jess cancelled Bella.” I hollered up the stairs. 

“Really?” She said rushing down them. She paced a minute clearly thinking something over. 

“What is it?”

“Do you think I should ask Jacob to the dance?” That wasn’t what I expected. I remembered how just earlier today I had tried to leave this door open for Jacob. You’re welcome after all I thought. 

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah?” She smiled and went for the phone. 

“Why don’t you just drive down there and ask in Person?” 

“You don’t think that’s too forward?”

“Bells, the way he looked at you on the beach you could probably go down there and ask the guy to marry you without it being awkward.” She laughed nervously but seemed pleased. 

“Okay.” She grabbed her keys. 

“Oh hey I forgot to ask If it’s okay with you that I go shopping.”

“Of course, I don’t care.” I knew she wouldn’t.

“Hey,” I had a sudden thought “do you think we’re abnormal? You know for not hating each other like other siblings?” She thought a moment.

“Maybe… we need to try harder, say something to piss me off.” 

“I got nothing”

“Well think about it while I’m gone and we can fight later so you feel better.” She laughed and walked out. I knew why we were close. We spent enough time being the only positive thing the other had, it was just engrained. I heard the truck pull away. Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I headed outside to the studio.

Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I set a standing easel out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I stood and slipped my feet out of my shoes. I looked around, and when I was sure no one could see me, I took off my shirt as well. The sun soaked my back, and while it wasn’t Phoenix, it was nice. I started painting. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pushed my hair back. I started with the beach, the rocks, the water and driftwood benches. It looked empty still. I decided to put someone looking out at the water. Before I could stop myself I realized, much to my dismay, that I had painted Edward again. The figure had his back turned but the copper hair was there. I grimaced, couldn’t I find any other inspiration? I put the canvas back in the garage and looked at several others, each with brooding eyes. I started washing my brushes. This was the most therapeutic part of painting. 

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I looked up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I was still shirtless. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.

I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering my shirt and shoes. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet — I got distracted painting outside." I rubbed paint off my cheek. 

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway." Bella came home minutes later reporting that, not to my surprise, Jacob had accepted. Charlie didn’t seem thrilled that Bella had a date to the dance, but was happy enough to have it be Jacob. 

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed.

He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy.

"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Bella and the girls are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose… do you mind if We go with them?"

"Is this the same thing Bella asked for permission for earlier?" he asked.

"Yes." I sighed in relief, celebrating that I wouldn't have to go over the details.

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Dad, but I'm helping the girls find dresses — you know, giving them constructive criticism." 

"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the fashion stuff, but Charlie was ever supportive, "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Beau, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me.

"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."

“Beau, you don’t need to take care of me all the time. Parent, Child.” He pointed between us as he spoke our roles. I had never been in that position before. He seemed to remember that and added, “I just want you to remember things are different here.” I nodded.

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue Tshirt with a tiny pride flag embroidered on— something I'd received from Bella but never worn in Phoenix. I left early on my motorcycle. I took my time riding several laps around the small town. I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to her class, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell. It was the same as yesterday — I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that I desperately needed the distraction. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin any of the girls’ enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling me.

After school, Jessica followed us home in her old white Mercury so that We could ditch our books and Vehicles. Flushed from my ride home I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, and ran out to join Jessica and Bella. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.


	8. Port Angeles

Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since I'd had a night out, and the rush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she as hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Bella talked happily about taking Jacob and while Jess barely knew him she was excited too. New always meant attention, and no one would know Jacob at the dance. Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way. 

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jessica  and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both Jessica and  Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously as we walked through the front doors of the store.

"Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing problems. "I've never had a boyfriend or anything close. I didn't go out much."

"Why not?" Jessica demanded.

"No one asked me," I answered honestly.

She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell them no." I laughed at that and so did she. Ever since my explosion at Tayla no one had talked about my being gay. It felt nice to joke about it now. We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes.

"Well, except for Tayla," Angela amended quietly.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"

"Tayla told everyone she is taking you to prom, gay or not," Jessica informed me with suspicious eyes.

"She said what?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.

"That's why Lance doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through the clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran her over with my bike she would stop feeling guilty about the accident? That she might give up on making amends and call it even?"

"Maybe," Jess snickered. '"If that's why she's doing this. But if you ask me she just likes the attention. No one paid any attention to her before her vehicular manslaughter attempt.” High school politics were getting on my nerves. Bella came over with a dress just then, dark blue. The dress selection wasn't large, but the other two found a few things to try on as well. I sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to control my fuming.

“What do you think?” Bella had stepped out in the dress. It was navy and somewhat Grecian with a swooping neckline. 

“It’s perfect. Kind of effortlessly formal.” Bella turned to look in the mirror and touched the dress gently. 

“Maybe it’s too expensive.” She was trying to talk herself out of it. I knew we had never had money for these kinds of things before. I suddenly wondered if Bella never went to dances back home because she was embarrassed to. 

“Just buy it.” I shrugged. 

“But-“

“Bella, we have the money from not buying a car. It’s not a big deal.” She considered this, then turned back to the mirror. 

Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the blue; why not play up the eyes?

Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her tall frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I complimented them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than I'd imagined. I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.  We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need new shoes. The girls'-night high was wearing off in the wake of my annoyance at Tayla, leaving room for the gloom to move back in. High school politics were starting to piss me off. 

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink strappy heels — she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she could wear high heels at all.

Jessica and Bella had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

I chickened out. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead — they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the… Cullens" — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "to be out of school a lot?" I failed  miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time — even the doctor. They're all real  outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn't ask one question, let alone the  hundreds that Jessica would have unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela.

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she'd found to match  her silver shoes. Bella hadn’t found anything she liked. 

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't  taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the car and  then walk down to the bay. Bella was eager to be a part of their group. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour — I wanted to  look for an art store. Bella insisted she was willing to come with me, but I encouraged her to go have fun — she knew how preoccupied I could get and how I hated being interrupted; it was something I preferred to do alone. She conceded to go with the girls. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the art store. but it wasn't what I was looking for. The windows were full of  Yarn, quilts, and books about holiday patterns. I didn't even go inside, there was ART and then there was CRAFTS. Through the glass I could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her back, clad in a hand sewn dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. I decided that was one conversation I could skip. There had to be an ART store in town.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about him, and what Angela had said… and more than anything trying to beat down my hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when I looked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to myself.

I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked promising. But  when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant space. I still had too much time to go  looking for The girls yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in hand before I met back up  with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times and took some deep breaths before I  continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading  home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they  weren't too many years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me since no one else was  around. I glanced up automatically. Two of them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

"Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and walked faster toward the  corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind me.  I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored warehouses, each with  large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no  sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage  yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset.

The eastern sky was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.  The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, I  realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the dark one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. I tapped my wallet in my pocket. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was — still in my duffle bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money with me, just a twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally" dropping my wallet and walking away.  But a small, frightened voice in the back of my mind warned me that they might be something worse than thieves. I remembered the tiny pride flag embroidered on my shirt. Surely they didn’t have the combined brain cell to pick up on that. 

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to the boisterous  noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know they're following you. I continued to walk as  quickly as I could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards  away from me now. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another  building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow drive,  back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go sprawling if I tried to go any faster.  The footfalls were definitely farther back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring at me.  It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had scared me and were sorry. I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled in relief.  There would be more people around once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away.  Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and darted to the other side of  the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past me.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I tried to hurry down the street.

"We just took a little detour."

My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and the lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air, preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much volume I could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my wallet into my front pocket, determined to hand it over quickly if need be.  The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the  street.

"Just walking down to meet some friends," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But I was right about the dry throat — no volume.

"Friends? Or boyfriends?," he called, and the raucous laughter started again behind me.  _ Damn it.  _ They did have brain cell between them after all. He stabbed his finger into the flag on my shirt. 

“See we like to think we do our part for our community. Keep it clean, keep the kids safe.” I looked up and down the street… what kids? He shoved me back into the brick wall. It hurt when my shoulder blades collided, but I stayed quiet.  I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket — try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror could  incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without taking someone with me. I balled my hands into fists. 

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump  back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the road — this car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of  security washed over me — even before I was off the street — as soon as I heard his voice. I jumped into the seat, slamming the door shut behind me. It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.

"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied his flawless features in the limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it occurred to me that his expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

"No," he said curtly, and his tone was livid.

I sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a  sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Beau?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.

"Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on his face.

"Yes," I croaked softly, ignoring the pain in my back. 

"Distract me, please," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," he clarified, closing his eyes and pinching  the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over Tayla Crowley tomorrow before school?"

He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"She’s telling everyone that she's taking me to prom — she seems to have grown accustomed to people talking about her and figures taking me to the prom is gossip worthy. So I figure if I endanger her life, then she’ll hate , and she won’t want to be around me no matter the clout. I don't need enemies but maybe Lance would back off if she left me alone. I might have to rough up her Sentra, though. Seems like reasonable collateral damage for some peace and quiet..." I babbled on.

"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "If she’s dead then she would leave me alone for sure," I muttered, refining my plan.

Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

"Better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Beau." He was whispering, too, and as he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" He didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control his anger again.

"At least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better response.

We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was past six-thirty.

"Bella will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet the girls for dinner."

He started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding back toward town.

We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars  slowly cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and The girls just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us. 

"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and  turned to see him getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and  slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was  waiting for me on the sidewalk.

He spoke before I could. "Go stop Her before I have to track them down, too. I don't  think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again." He nodded towards Bella who was clearly coming undone.

I shivered at the threat in his voice.

"Bella!" I yelled but they all turned around, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to.

They hesitated a few feet from us. Bella seemed too stunned to move. 

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I gestured toward him.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I could see from their  staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents on them before. Bella seemed unaffected still staring straight at me unblinking. 

"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.

"Um, actually, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry," Angela confessed.

"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of authority. He looked up at Bella and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Beau home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while he eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was  what I wanted. “But can I talk to him first?” Not waiting for a response she grabbed my arm and walked out of hearing range.

“What the hell. I was panicked where were you really?” 

“Really Bells I just got lost and then bumped into Edward.” I shrugged. She wasn’t letting this go.

“You couldn’t call? I’ve been calling you nonstop.”

“My phone died.” She looked back at Edward. 

“Do you really want to go with him…. he seems…. I don’t know..”

“Bella,” I paused and made her look at me. “I want to go.” This time the words were not a lie. I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior.

There were so many questions that I couldn't bombard him with till we were by ourselves.

"Okay." Bella walked back towards Jessica. 

"See you tomorrow, Beau…. Edward." Jessica mumbled. Bella grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. Bella paused at the back of the car and looked intensely at me once more,  _ are you sure?  _ Her eyes asked.  _ Yes.  _ I made mine answer. 

As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His expression was unreadable.

"Humor me."

He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was female, and I  understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly than  necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me. She was several inches taller than I was, and unnaturally blond.

"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that or not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Edward kept between us - we must just be friends. She led us to a table big enough for four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor.

I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the host. I wasn't sure, but it looked like he  smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never seen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.

"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.

"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out." She walked away unsteadily.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

He seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."

He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"

"Frequently," I admitted.

And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiled with unnecessary warmth.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" I didn't miss  that she was speaking only to him.

He looked at me.

"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question. A stupid question. Why was I ordering Coke in an Italian restaurant? 

"Two Cokes," he said. 

"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile. But he didn't see it. He was watching me.

"What?" I asked when she left.

His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"

"Should I?"

He chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always been very good at  repressing unpleasant things."

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you." Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.

"Beau?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.

I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom ravioli."

"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but he wasn't looking at her,  and she left dissatisfied.

"Drink," he ordered.

I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing when he pushed his glass toward me.

"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through my chest, and I  shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.

"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh — I left it in Jessica's car," I realized.

Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever. I just couldn't seem to look away from his face. I made myself look now, focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how muscular his chest was.

He handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.

"Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into his jacket. It was cold — the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like cologne. The sleeves were much too long; I shoved them back just enough so I could free my hands.

"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. I was surprised; I looked down,  flushing, of course.

He pushed the bread basket toward me.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.

"You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." He seemed unsettled. He  stared into my eyes, and I saw how light his eyes were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden  butterscotch.

"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.

That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," he murmured to himself.

I picked up a breadstick and began nibbling on the end, measuring his expression. I wondered when it  would be okay to start questioning him.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him frowning and somber.

He stared at me, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black — I expect it then," I went on. "I have a theory about that."

His eyes narrowed. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." I chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic books?" His faint smile  was mocking; his eyes were still tight.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," I confessed.

"And?" he prompted.

But then the waitress strode around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously  leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of me — it looked pretty good — and turned quickly to Edward.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.

"No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." He gestured with a long white hand to the empty  cups in front of me.

"Sure." She removed the empty glasses and walked away.

"You were saying?" he asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" I paused.

"There are conditions?" He raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word this time, and left  again.

I took a sip.

"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.

I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from  under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.

"Next."

"But that's the easiest one," I objected.

"Next," he repeated.

I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and carefully speared a ravioli.

I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I  swallowed and took another sip of Coke before I looked up.

"Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."

"Just two exceptions," he corrected, "hypothetically." I was confused. 

“Two?” 

“Twins are an identical set, in all things it seems.” 

"All right, with two exceptions, then." I was thrilled that he was playing along, but I tried to seem casual.

"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find someone else at  exactly the right time? How would he know he was in trouble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even made sense.

"Hypothetically?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Well, if… that someone…"

"Let's call him 'Joe,'" I suggested.

He smiled wryly. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded him frostily.

He laughed at me, his eyes warm.

"Yes, we were," he agreed. "Shall we call you 'Jack’?"

"How did you know?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I was leaning toward him again.

He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward, without thinking, to touch his folded  hands, but he slid them away minutely, and I pulled my hand back. Maybe I was wrong about how he felt towards me.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.

His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."

I stretched my hand across the table again — ignoring him when he pulled back slightly once more — to touch the back of his hand shyly with my fingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"

I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placing both of his under the table.  _ Okay, he doesn’t like me.  _ I thought. 

But he leaned toward me.  _ Then again…. _

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific  person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes."  He paused. I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. He stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.”

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been  interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.

"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."

I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember?" he asked, his angel's face grave.

"Yes." I was calm.

"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today… ?" I prompted.

He pressed his lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. His eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me.

"You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.

I quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth.

"It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." He looked at me anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then stabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully — like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles — and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the art store, I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south… and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street — to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious…"

He was lost in thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and  follow you on foot. And then —" He stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. He made an  effort to calm himself.

"Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over my head.

"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling slightly back over his teeth. "I saw  your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.

"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take you away, and leave  them… alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go home with Bella like she wanted, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.

I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. He still had his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled.

Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't  ready to say goodbye to him.

The waitress appeared as if she'd been called. Or watching.

"How are we doing?" she asked Edward.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." His voice was quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of our  conversation. It seemed to muddle her. He looked up, waiting.

"S-sure," she stuttered. "Here you go." She pulled a small leather folder from the front pocket of her  black apron and handed it to him.

There was a bill in his hand already. He slipped it into the folder and handed it right back to her.

"No change." He smiled. Then he stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to my feet.

She smiled invitingly at him again. "You have a nice evening."

He didn't look away from me as he thanked her. I suppressed a smile.

He walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touch me. I remembered what Jessica had  said about her relationship with Mike, how they were almost to the first-kiss stage.Were Edward and I at any stage? Or was I imagining? sighed. Edward  seemed to hear me, and he looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that he didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.

He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should have been used to that by now — but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edward wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I  guessed the good weather was at an end. I was warm in his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it  when I thought he couldn't see.

Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the  freeway.

"Now," he said significantly, "it's your turn."


	9. Theories

  
  


"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street.

He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.

He sighed.

"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the art store, and that I had gone south. I was just  wondering how you knew that."

He looked away, deliberating.

  
  


"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I grumbled.

He almost smiled.

"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus.

I wasn't ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explaining things.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.

He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"

"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you  do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.

"That's more than one," he pointed out. I simply intertwined my fingers and gazed at him, waiting.

"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar  someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.

"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me or Bella?" I asked curiously.

He looked at me, his eyes enigmatic.

"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same  way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He  grinned at me, suddenly amused.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.

"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," he laughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" His face tightened. "Which brings us back to you."

I sighed. How to begin?

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" he reminded me softly.

I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to notice the speedometer.

"Holy crap!" I shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" He was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going over a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall — as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Beau." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.

"We're not going to crash."

I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road!"

"I've never been in an accident, Beau — I've never even gotten a ticket." He grinned and tapped his  forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

"Very funny." I fumed. "If you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." He sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," he muttered.

"This is slow?"

"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'm still waiting for your latest theory."

I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

"I won't laugh," he promised.

"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see his expression.

"Go ahead." His voice was calm.

"I don't know how to start," I admitted.

"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up with this on your own."

"No."

"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.

"No — it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at his face. He looked puzzled.

"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

He still looked confused.

"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched him carefully. His confused expression froze in place.

"We went for a walk —" I edited all my scheming out of the story "— and he was telling me and Bella some old  legends — trying to scareus, I think. He told us one…" I hesitated.

"Go on," he said.

"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at his face now. But I saw his knuckles  tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" Still calm.

"No. He… mentioned your family."

He was silent, staring at the road.

I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Jacob.

"He just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it."

It didn't seem like enough; I had to confess. "It was my fault, I forced him to tell me."

"Why?"

"Lance said something about you — he was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe  said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So I  got Jacob alone and I tricked it out of him," I admitted, hanging my head.

He startled me by laughing. I glared up at him. He was laughing, but his eyes were fierce, staring ahead.

"Tricked him how?" he asked.

"I knew Bella liked him, and she would do anything to spend time together, even listen to old stories. Jacob seemed just as interested so I played matchmaker— it worked better than I thought it would." Disbelief colored my tone as I remembered.

"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of deceiving people — poor Jacob Black."

I blushed and looked out my window into the night.

"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.

"I did some research on the Internet."

"And did that convince you?" His voice sounded barely interested. But his hands were clamped hard  onto the steering wheel.

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," I whispered.

"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken through his carefully composed  mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.

"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"

"No."

He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted, gritting his teeth together.

"I'm right?" I gasped.

"Does it matter?"

I took a deep breath.

"Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, was composed.

He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.

"Okay." I smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with me. He stared down at me with watchful  eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in  encouragement, and he frowned.

"Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"

He laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look at me with a wistful expression. The  golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at him until he looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was hard now, and when he looked at me again his eyes were cold.

I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh," I murmured, "that."

"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

I flinched. "Well, Jacob said something about that."

"What did Jacob say?" he asked flatly.

"He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you  only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.

"Not exactly. He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn't want you on  their land, just in case."

He looked forward, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

"So was he right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible.

"The Quileutes have a long memory," he whispered.

I took it as a confirmation.

"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if he could as well.

"A very dangerous one," he murmured.

We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too  fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with him like this again — openly, the walls between us gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.

"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what he said, just so I could hear his voice again.

He looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I  realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me.

"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.

"But animals aren't enough?"

He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But it keens us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.

He sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — men in particular — are crabbier when they're hungry."

He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"

I didn't answer; I just listened to the sound of his laugh, committing it to memory.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quiet again.

"Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave,  but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." His eyes were gentle but intense, and they seemed to be making my bones turn soft. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." He shook his head, and then seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."

"What?"

"Your hands," he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the  heels of my hands. His eyes missed nothing.

"I fell," I sighed. But in my head I was trying to make sense of mixed signals. I was a mistake, but one he didn’t like being away from? 

"That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse — and don’t think I don’t know that you rode that motorcycle without proper gear, you could’ve been killed! The possibilities tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves." He smiled ruefully at me.

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I thought of how much  disappointment I had suffered because of his absence.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight — at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," he promised.

I thought about it for a moment.

"You might have called me," I decided.

He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.

"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushed to be saying this out loud.

He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was pained.

"Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

I couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"

"Don't you see, Beau? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." His voice was low but urgent. His words cut me. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Beau — please, grasp that."

"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.

"I'm serious," he growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late." Why was I telling him how I felt when he never showed solid evidence of returning my feelings.

His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."

I bit my lip and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt. I stared out at the road. We must be  close now. He was driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. I just shook my head, not sure if I could speak.

I could feel his gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes forward.

"Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over. I  quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.

"No," I said, but my voice cracked.

I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn't just apologizing for the words that had upset me.

The darkness slipped by us in silence.

"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear him struggle to use a lighter tone.

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your  expression — you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on  something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know, self-defense. I was going to  smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.

"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about running?"

"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.

"What about screaming for help?"

"I was getting to that part."

He shook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."

I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.

"Yes — I have a paper due, too." He smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."

It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that little promise sent flutters through my  stomach, and made me unable to speak.  We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car, but I didn't move.

"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"

"I promise."

I considered that for a moment, then nodded. I pulled his jacket off, taking one last whiff.

"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.

I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."

"Oh, right." He grinned.

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.

"Beau?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if he asked me to stay away from him? I couldn't keep that promise.

"Don't go into the woods alone."

I stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"

He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out the window.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."

I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but I was relieved. This, at least, was an easy  promise to honor. "Whatever you say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew he wanted me to leave now.

"Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.

'"Beau?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"Sleep well," he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned away.  I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. Then I stepped out of the car  awkwardly, having to use the frame for support. I thought I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too  quiet for me to be certain.

He waited till I had stumbled to the front door, and then I heard his engine quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. I realized it was very cold.

I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?"

"No, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball game.

"You're home early."

"Am I?" I was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did the girls have fun?"

"Yeah — it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried to remember all the way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "They all found dresses. Bella is coming home later, she stayed at Angela’s house to look at jewelry"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Jessica first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

"Well, give her a chance to get home first."

"Right," I agreed.

I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told myself.

The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Beau?"

"Hey, Bella , I was just going to call you."

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved… and surprised.

"Yes. I left my jacket in Jessica’s car — could you bring it to me?"

"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, later when you’re Home. I told Charlie you were coming from Angela’s in a little bit"

She caught on quickly. "Oh, Charlie is still awake?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon then. Bye!" I could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Bye, Bells."

I walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went through the motions of getting  ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing. It wasn't until I was in the shower — the water too hot, burning my skin — that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move, until the hot water began to run out.  I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in so the  aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed for bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball,  hugging myself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me.

“Beau” Bell whispered from the doorway. 

“I’m awake” She came in and sat on the bed.

“So… Edward huh?” She didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah I think so, I don’t know how he feels back though.”

“Well, if he’s smart… he feels the same way B” She patted the edge of the bed. I wanted to say that he was too smart, and that might be the problem. She closed the door before I had a response. I squeezed my eyes closed.

My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and some I fought to repress.

Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of  him — and I didn't know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was  unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.


	10. Interogation

It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like his smell. I was sure I could never have dreamed that up on my own.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no reason not to be in school  today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, Pulling one of Charlie’s old Mariners hoodies over my long sleeve shirt. I looked around for my jacket but couldn’t find it. Bella had never told me where she put it. Further proof that my memory, at least of forgetting my jacket,  was real. When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again — I was running later than I'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door. Hopefully Bella had the truck started and warm.  It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was ice cold where it clung to the  exposed skin on my face and neck. I couldn't wait to get to the heat of the truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a silver car.

My heart thudded, stuttered, and then picked up again in double time.

I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the door open for me.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as he caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice. He was really giving me a choice — I was free to refuse, and part of him hoped for that. It was a vain hope.

"Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I opened the door of the truck. 

“Bells, I’m going with Edward.”

“Are you sure?” She had been waiting to see if I wanted to before leaving. I winked at her and she sighed putting the truck in reverse. She scooted past the Volvo and onto the road. 

As I stepped into the warm car, I noticed his tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.

"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." His voice was guarded.

I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again, the  fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.

"I'm not quite that delicate, I can survive without a jacket” I said, but I pulled his jacket onto my lap, pushing my arms through the  too-long sleeves, curious to see if the scent could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was better.

"Can you?" he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear.

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. I was, at least. Last night all the walls were down… almost all. I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.

He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"Do my questions bother you?" I asked, relieved.

"Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but I couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Do I react badly?"

"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly — it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," he accused.

"Not very much."

"Enough to drive me insane."

"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the words were out, I regretted  them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I could only hope he hadn't noticed it.  He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — more than glad to be alone with him, but remembering that his car was usually full.

"They took Rosalie's car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up.

"Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the car. I wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. "So why did Rosalie drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at the front of the car, staying very  close to my side as we walked onto campus. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid he wouldn't like me to.

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you're looking for privacy?"

"An indulgence," he admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," I muttered under my breath.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. My jacket tucked over her arm. Bella must’ve forgotten it in her car, we really were the same person sometimes. 

"Hey, Jessica," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for bring this." She handed me my  jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible.

Or what his eyes were capable of.

"Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her?

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

"What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmured.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed.

"I can't," he said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes. "However, I can read hers — she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

I groaned as I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, replacing it with my own. He folded it over his arm.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

"A little help?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"

He shook his head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."

"No, you not sharing what you know — now that's not fair."

He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally said.

"Yikes. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent. People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I was barely aware of them.

"Hmmm." He paused and lightly brushed the back of my neck. My heart spluttered hyperactively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you

don't mind — it's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," I said in a faint voice.

"And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into my favorite uneven smile. I couldn't catch my breath soon enough to respond to that remark. He turned and walked away.

"I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder. Three people walking in the door stopped to stare at  me.  I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. He was such a cheater. Now I was even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Morning, Beau," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see an odd, almost bored look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"

"It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely. "Jessica got a really cute  dress."

"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, his eyes brightening. I smiled at the turn the  conversation had taken.

"She said she had a really good time," I assured him.

"She did?" he said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers. English and then Government passed in a blur, while I worried about how to explain things to Jessica and agonized over whether Edward would really be listening to what I said through the medium of Jess's thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent could be — when it wasn't saving my life.  The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low,  oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.

Edward was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly  bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be  better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

"What happened last night?"

"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."

She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "How did you get home so fast?"

"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." I hoped he heard that.

"Was it like a date — did you tell him to meet you there?"

I hadn't thought of that. "No — I was very surprised to see him there."

Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my voice.

"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.

"Yes — that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last night," I explained.

"So are you going out again?"

"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday— does that count?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Well, then, yes."

"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Edward Cullen."

"I know," I agreed. "Wow" didn't even cover it.

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "Has he kissed you?"

"No," I mumbled. "It's not like that."

She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too.

"Do you think Saturday… ?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I really doubt it. At this point I’m not sure if he’s into me like that or not.” The discontent in my voice was poorly disguised.

"What did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper. Class had started but Mr.  Varner wasn't paying close attention and we weren't the only ones still talking.

"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back. "We talked about the English essay a little." A very, very little. I think he mentioned it in passing.

"Please, Beau" she begged. "Give me some details."

"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the waitress flirting with him — it was over the top.  But he didn't pay any attention to her at all." Let him make what he could of that.

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty?"

"Very — and probably nineteen or twenty."

"Even better. He must like you."

"I think so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," I threw in for his benefit, sighing.

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.

"Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.

"He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a face, probably remembering  this morning or last night, when he'd turned the overwhelming force of his eyes on her.

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.

"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.

"There's a lot more to him than that."

"Really? Like what?"

I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd been kidding about listening in.

"I can't explain it right… but he's even more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the  front of the room.

"Is that possible?" She giggled.

I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mr. Varner.

"So you like him, then?" She wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," I said curtly.

"I mean, do you really like him?" she urged.

"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like him?"

"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed,  one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took  evasive action.

"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I told her.

"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"

We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about the subject returning to me. And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag,  my uplifted expression must have tipped Jessica off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear inconveniently again.  But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall — looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Edward was waiting for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and  departed.

"See you later, Beau." Her voice was thick with implications. I might have to turn off the ringer on the  phone.

"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been listening, it was obvious.

"Hi."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak — biding his time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds,  their expression speculative. It seemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the  dominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"

He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Half is for me, of course."

I raised one eyebrow.

He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "what would you do if  someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me, holding my eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched, eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked condescendingly.

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so bad."

He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention.

"Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing he was about to start.

"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" he asked casually.

"You really didn't notice?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor girl." I could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." He refused to be distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes with troubled eyes.

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdropper," I reminded him.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking — everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."

I scowled. "That's quite a distinction."

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now. He had his large white hands folded under his chin; I leaned forward, my right hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.

"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" he murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.

I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back to me.

"You're doing it again," I muttered.

His eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"

"Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at him.

"Oh." He frowned.

"It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it."

"Are you going to answer the question?"

I looked down. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" He was irritated again.

"Yes, I really think that." I kept my eyes down on the table, my eyes tracing the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate. The silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at his expression.

Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."  I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.

"You can't know that," I disagreed in a whisper. I shook my head in doubt, though my heart throbbed at his words and I wanted so badly to believe them.

"What makes you think so?" His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating — trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.

I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting impatient; frustrated by my silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my hand from my neck, and held up one finger.

"Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that he was satisfied that I was planning to answer.  I dropped my hand to the table, moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. I stared at my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.

"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure — I don't know how to read  minds — but sometimes it seems like you're trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else." That was the best I could sum up the sensation of anguish that his words triggered in me at times.

"Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as he confirmed my fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," he began to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"

“Well for one, I can never tell if you’re into me that way or not. I’ve been wrong when trying to read signals before.” He considered this.

“And the fact that I told you that you could tell everyone we’re dating, that didn’t seem to clear things up?” 

“Well..” I shrugged. 

“Beau,” He made sure he had my attention before whispering the next part gruffly “I am very very into you.” I gulped and he seemed to laugh silently at me.

“Was there a ‘Part two’?” He asked quizzically.

"Well… part two is well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. "I'm absolutely ordinary — well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. And look at you." I waved my hand toward him and all his bewildering perfection.

His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a knowing look. "You don't  see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit you're dead-on about the bad things," he chuckled blackly, "but you didn't hear what every human female in this school was thinking on your first day."

I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.

"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."

My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of my original argument.

"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.

"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if I can do it" — he shook his  head, seeming to struggle with the thought — "if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to  keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."

I glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"

"You'd never have to make the choice."

Abruptly, his unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous, devastating smile rearranged his features.

"Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant  presence."

"No one has tried to do away with me today," I reminded him, grateful for the lighter subject. I didn't  want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. If I had to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in  danger to keep him close… I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble.

"Yet," he added.

"Yet," I agreed; I would have argued, but now I wanted him to be expecting disasters.

"I have another question for you." His face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to  all your admirers?"

I made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Tayla thing yet," I warned him.  “It's your fault that she's deluded himself into thinking I'm going to prom with her.” 

"Oh, she would have found a chance to ask you without me — I just really wanted to watch your face," he chuckled, I would have been angrier if his laughter wasn't so fascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me down?" he asked, still laughing to himself.

"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked an illness or a sprained ankle."

He was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

I shook my head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would have thought you would  understand."

"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?"

"Obviously."

"That wouldn't be a problem." He was very confident. "It's all in the leading." He could see that I was  about to protest, and he cut me off. "But you never told me — are you resolved on going to Seattle, or  do you mind if we do something different?"

As long as the "we" part was in, I didn't care about anything else.

"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."

“Can I drive?" I pictured Edward on the back of my bike. 

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going  alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask a gain. And also, because  your driving frightens me."

He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving."

He shook his head in disgust, but then his eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" There was an undercurrent to his question that I didn't understand.

"With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you'd like to." Again, he was leaving the choice up to me.

"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.

"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you  didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in population. In physical size —"

"But apparently," he interrupted me, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix. So I'd rather you stayed near  me." His eyes did that unfair smoldering thing again.

I couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was a moot point anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," he sighed, brooding. "You should tell Charlie or Bella, though."

"Why in the world would I do that?"

His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."

I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take my chances."

He exhaled angrily, and looked away.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.

I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the  room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice, staring at me. The others were looking at Edward. I looked away swiftly, back to him, and I. asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place  to hike, because of bears."

He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I added sternly, to hide my  shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed me.

He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I  tried to pull myself together.

"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze. "What's your favorite?"

He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to impact the environment  with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?"

He smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."  I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"

"Absolutely not!" His face turned even whiter than usual, and his eyes were suddenly furious. I leaned  back, stunned and — though I'd never admit it to him — frightened by his reaction. He leaned back as  well, folding his arms across his chest.

"Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.

"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, his voice cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear.  Nothing could be more beneficial for you."

"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore his angry expression.

He glared at me for a long minute.

"Later," he finally said. He was on his feet in one lithe movement. "We're going to be late."

I glanced around, startled to see that he was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with him, the time and the place were such a muddled blur that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up,  grabbing my bag from the back of my chair.

"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.


	11. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Kudos @Black_Unicorn and @lacklustreAxe ! 
> 
> Kudos are MY exact brand of heroine ;D
> 
> Chapter notes: The song mentioned is a single released in 2017, I know that makes for poor canon but honestly the song changes as I write based on what is stuck in my head. If you want a list of all the songs I've ever considered comment or message!
> 
> WARNING: ALCOHOLISM MENTIONED

Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that he no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, he sat quite close beside me, our arms almost touching.  Mr. Banner backed into the room then — what superb timing the man had — pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated TV and VCR. A movie day — the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible.  Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to turn off the lights.

And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward was sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of him than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch him, to stroke his perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing my mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes, of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled sheepishly as I realized his posture was identical to mine, fists clenched under his arms, right down to the eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I should feel dizzy.

The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie — I didn't even know what subject it  was on. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the electric current that seemed to be originating from  somewhere in his body never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a quick glance in his  direction, but he never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering craving to touch him also refused to  fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my stiff fingers. Edward chuckled beside me.

"Well, that was interesting," he murmured. His voice was dark and his eyes were cautious.

"Umm," was all I was able to respond.

"Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly.

I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.

He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. His face  startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat.

He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my  cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was  alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

He turned without a word and strode quickly away from me.

I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker room, changing in a trancelike  state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I  was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.  Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's friendship still survived; he came to stand beside me.

"Do you want to be a team?"

"Thanks, Mike — you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced apologetically.

"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Mike.

It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike's  shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Mike was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

"So," he said as we walked off the court.

"So what?"

"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone rebellious. My insecurities flared.

"That's none of your business, Mike," I warned, internally cursing Jessica straight to the fiery pits of Hades.

"I don't like it," he muttered anyway.

"You don't have to," I snapped. Mike caught on.

"Hey, listen man, you can date any guy you want to. Date them all. It’s just that guy… he looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued, ignoring me.

I choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. I waved and fled to the locker room.

I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach my argument with Mike already a distant memory. I was wondering if Edward would be waiting, or if I should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? I felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?  By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Edward was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.

"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.

"Really?" He was unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over my shoulder and  narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's back as he walked away.

"What?" I demanded.

His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves.” I couldn’t help but feel as if he was territorial. 

"You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my sudden good humor vanished. 

"How's your head?" he asked innocently.

"You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction of the parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking at this point.

He kept up with me easily.

"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made me curious." He didn't  sound repentant, so I ignored him.

We walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on my part — to his car. But I had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys, were surrounding it.  Then I realized they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circled around Rosalie's red  convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Edward slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," he muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"An M3."

"I don't speak Car and Driver."

"It's a BMW." He rolled his eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out without running over the car  enthusiasts.

I nodded — I'd heard of that one.

"Are you still angry?" he asked as he carefully maneuvered his way out.

"Definitely."

He sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted.

His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive me Saturday?" he  countered my conditions.

I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get. "Deal," I agreed.

"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." His eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted moment — playing  havoc with the rhythm of my heart — and then turned playful. "And I'll be ready bright and early Saturday morning."

"Where?” 

“Your Studio.”

“Um, it doesn't help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway."

His smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."

"How —"

He cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

I let it go. I had a more pressing question.

"Is it later yet?" I asked significantly.

He frowned. "I supposed it is later."

I kept my expression polite as I waited.

He stopped the car. I looked up, surprised — of course we were already at Charlie's house, parked  behind the truck. We must’ve been going slower if Bella had beaten us home. I was trying purposely not to pay attention though. t was easier to ride with him if I only looked when it was over. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me, measuring with his eyes.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" He seemed solemn, but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in his eyes.

"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.

"No," I lied. He didn't buy it.

"I apologize for scaring you," he persisted with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared.  "It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted." His jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

He spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Because… ?"

He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…"

He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.  But our eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this  afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he closed his eyes.

"Beau, I think you should go inside now." His low voice was rough, his eyes on the clouds again.

I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. Afraid I might  stumble in my woozy state, I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without  looking back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.

"Oh, Beau?" he called after me, his voice more even. He leaned toward the open window with a faint smile on his lips.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

And then he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I  could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.

“You made it home in one piece I see.” Bella seemed anxious. 

“Why did you think I wouldn’t?” 

“I don’t know it’s just, last night you didn’t know where you stood and today you’re dating? It just seems kind of sudden, intense.”

“You think I’m making rash decisions?”

“No! I just, I guess I want you to be careful?” 

“I could say the same to you and Jacob, he calls every night now.” She smiled.

“I guess so.” 

That night Edward starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had  changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned  restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on the Mariners hoodies and some torn up  jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of warm water and board shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I  expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal, Bella had peeled a grapefruit. I wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. He answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

I cringed. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

"No actually, I thought I might go for a ride and look for some painting inspiration" I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.

He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush. "And you're sure you  dont want to go to the dance too?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I glared.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice. And I’m not really any  _ girls  _ choice" I added emphasis on girls. 

"Oh." He frowned as he dried his plate.

I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your gay son would  meet a boy he liked, but also having to worry if he didn't. How ghastly it would be, I thought,  shuddering, if Charlie had even the slightest inkling of exactly what I did like.

Charlie left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books.

When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my  window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

“Bella,” I called up the stairs “Edward is her again, do you mind if I go with him?” She popped out of the bathroom with her toothbrush hanging from her lips and shooed me away with her hands. I smiled at her  _ thank you _ my eyes said, her eyes merely rolled.

He waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed — and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed over my face, as if his  question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I was always good — much more than good — when I was near him.

His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, automatically swinging my hair around my shoulder to provide some  measure of cover.

"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of the truck would scare me, whenever I got to ride in it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to him.

“Do you like the Mariners?” He pointed to my sweatshirt. I was wearing Charlie’s hand-me-down again.

“No I don’t like sports.” 

"What's your favorite color?" he asked, his face grave.

I rolled my eyes. "It changes from day to day."

"What's your favorite color today?" He was still solemn.

"Probably brown." I didn’t pretend to be interesting around him, just myself. 

He snorted, dropping his serious expression. "Brown?" he asked skeptically.

"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown — tree trunks, rocks, dirt — is all covered up with wet green stuff here," I complained.

He seemed fascinated by my little rant. He considered for a moment, staring into my eyes.

"You're right," he decided, serious again. "Brown is warm." He reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, and brushed the back of my neck like he had before.

We were at the school by now. He turned back to me as he pulled into a parking space.

"What Song did you last listen too?" he asked, his face as somber as if he'd asked for a murder confession.

“Demons.”

“Demons?”

“Yeah by Jacob Lee.” 

I realized I'd still had the track from that day in the studio pulled up. When I said the name of the band, he smiled crookedly, a peculiar expression in his eyes. He flipped open a compartment under his car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me,

"Debussy to this?" He raised an eyebrow.

It was the album I had been listening too. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down.

“I suppose it’s appropriate,” he mused “given the situation.” I wondered what he meant by that.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English, when he met me after  Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my  existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and art - so much art.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring him. But the absolute absorption of his face, and his never-ending stream of questions, compelled me to continue. Mostly his questions were easy, only a very few triggering my easy blushes.

But when I did flush, it brought on a whole new round of questions.

Such as the time he asked my favorite gemstone, and I blurted out topaz before thinking. He'd been  flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind. I was sure he would have continued down whatever mental list he was following, except for the blush. My face reddened because, until very recently, my favorite gemstone was garnet. It was impossible, while staring back into his topaz eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And, naturally, he wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed — failed only because I kept my eyes safely away from his face.

"It's the color of your eyes today," I sighed, surrendering, staring down at my hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair. "I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I'd say onyx." I'd given more information than necessary in my unwilling honesty, and I worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was.

But his pause was very short.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" he fired off.

“I don’t like flowers.”

“Why not?”

“My mom liked flowers. I don’t like reminders.”

“Your mom liked flowers?”

“Doesn’t yours?” 

“Of course, she has Rose gardens everywhere —“ he caught on to my plan to flipped the conversation “but this isn’t about Esme.” He asked another question about my favorite type of tree. 

“You don’t like talking about your mom.” 

“Was that a question?”

“Not really. But…” he trailed off. I sighed. He wanted to know why.

“She was an alcoholic.” 

“Beau I didn’t mean to be pry-“

“It’s okay. It’s just a fact.” He looked at me like he had a million things to say. 

“What’s your middle name?” 

I sighed in appreciation, and continued with the psychoanalysis.

Biology was a complication again. Edward had continued with his quizzing up until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As the teacher approached the light switch, I noticed  Edward slide his chair slightly farther away from mine. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark,  there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch my hand across the short space and touch his cold skin, as yesterday.  I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my hidden fingers gripping the table's edge as I fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled me. I didn't look at him, afraid that if he was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr. Banner turned the lights on, finally glancing at Edward; he was looking at me, his eyes ambivalent.

He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the gym in silence, like  yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched my face wordlessly — this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw — before he turned and walked away.  Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike's one-man badminton show. He didn't speak to me today, either in response to my vacant expression or because he was still angry about our squabble yesterday.  Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I felt bad about that. But I couldn't concentrate on him.

I hurried to change afterward, ill at ease, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner I would be with  Edward. The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face.  He smiled in reaction before launching into more cross-examination.

His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to know what I missed  about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie's  house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.  I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote — bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant — the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him.

His quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be  embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, he paused instead of responding with another question. 

"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.

"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."

"Charlie!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time — Charlie would be driving home now. I remembered, vaguely, Bella arriving home just a moment ago, it couldn’t be that late could it?

"It's twilight," Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His  voice was thoughtful, as if his mind were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the windshield.

I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," he said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "The easiest  time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so  predictable, don't you think?" He smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that you see them here  much."

He laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me Saturday…"

He raised one eyebrow.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. "So is it my  turn tomorrow, then?"

"Certainly not!" His face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." He reached across to open my door for me, and his sudden proximity sent  my heart into frenzied palpitations.

But his hand froze on the handle.

"Not good," he muttered.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes disturbed.

He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly.

He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.  The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.

"Charlie's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.  I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my  jacket.  I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Edward illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on  something or someone I couldn't see. His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Beau," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Jacob?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, his  lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Jacob was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat  was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks  resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket.  And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Jacob's father, Billy Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Another complication, Edward had said.  Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Billy recognized Edward so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.


	12. Balance Act

"Billy!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of the car.

I turned toward the house, beckoning to Jacob as I ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting  them loudly behind me.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," he said disapprovingly.

"We get permits early on the rez," Jacob said while I opened the door and flicked on the porch light.

"Sure you do," Charlie laughed.

"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Billy's resonant voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child. went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then 'I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jacob helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.  I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.

"This is a surprise," Charlie was saying.

"It's been too long," Billy answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His dark eyes flashed up to me again,  their expression unreadable.

"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."

Jacob grinned. "I think that's the plan — our TV broke last week."

Billy made a face at his son. "And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella again," he added. Jacob  scowled and ducked his head while I fought back a surge of laughter. 

“Bella, Jacob and Billy are here!” I called up the stairs. I heard a thud, she dropped a book I guessed.

  
  


"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Billy's searching gaze.

"Naw, we ate just before we came," Jacob answered.

"How about you, Charlie?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the corner.

"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Billy's  chair follow.

The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I heard Bella come in behind me. She smiled at Jacob. 

"So, how are things?" Jacob asked.

"Pretty good." She said cheerfully. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"

"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.

"Sorry. I haven't seen any… what was it you were looking for?"

"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he added suddenly.

"No."

"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't driving it."

“What do you mean I drove it today?” Bella didn't understand his question. Jacob looked suspiciously at me. 

I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. "I got a ride with a friend."

"Nice ride." Jacob's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."

I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.

"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."

"Jacob, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the sink." Bella sensed that this, like any conversation, was one I didn’t want to have.

"Sure." Jacob was excited by the attention. 

He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.

"So who was it?" he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.

I sighed in defeat. "Edward Cullen."

To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little embarrassed.

"Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."

"That's right." I faked an innocent expression. "He doesn't like the Cullens." Bella laughed nervously. 

"Superstitious old man," Jacob muttered under his breath.

"You don't think he'd say anything to Charlie?" I couldn't help asking, the words coming out in a low  rush.

Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in his dark eyes. "I doubt it," he  finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since — tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."

"Oh," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Are you excited for the dance?” Bella asked.

“How could I not be?” He answered simply and honestly. 

I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Charlie, pretending to watch the game while  Jacob chattered with Bella. I was really listening to the men's conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he began.  It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, the game ended.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked as he pushed his father over  the lip of the threshold.

“Definitely.” Bella answered.

"I'm not sure," I hedged.

"That was fun, Charlie," Billy said.

"Come up for the next game," Charlie encouraged.

"Sure, sure," Billy said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile  disappeared. "You take care, Beau," he added seriously.

"Thanks," I muttered, looking away.

I headed for the stairs while Charlie and Bella waved from the doorway.

"Wait, Beau," Charlie called.

I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I'd joined them in the living room?  But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"

"Good." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could safely share. "My  badminton team won all four games."

"Wow, I didn't know you could play badminton."

"Well, actually I can't, but my partner is really good," I admitted.

"Who is it?" he asked with token interest.

"Um… Mike Newton," I told him reluctantly.

"Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Newton kid." He perked up. "Nice family." He mused  for a minute. "Why didn't you ask him to the dance this weekend?"

"Dad!" I groaned. "Besides the fact that he’s not gay, He's kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides, you know I can't dance. Besides I’m dying to go out and sketch."

"Oh yeah," he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. "So I guess it's good you'll be gone  Saturday… I've made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather's supposed to be  real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I'd stay home. I know  leave you here alone too much."

"Dad, you're doing a great job." I smiled, hoping my relief didn't show. "I've never minded being alone —I'm too much like you." I winked at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.  I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy and Jacob seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself whistling while I was pulling at my hair with a comb, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.

"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.

I shrugged. "It's Friday."

I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edward was faster. He was waiting in his shiny car, windows down, engine off.  I didn't hesitate this time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the sooner to see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn't imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon.

"How did you sleep?" he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how appealing his voice was.

"Fine. How was your night?"

"Pleasant." His smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.

"Can I ask what you did?" I asked.

"No." He grinned. "Today is still mine."

He wanted to know about people today: more about Bella, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free  time together. And then the one grandmother I'd known, my few school friends — embarrassing me  when he asked about boys I'd dated. I was relieved that I'd never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn't last long. He seemed as surprised as Jessica and Angela by my lack of romantic history.

"So you never met anyone you wanted?" he asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what he was thinking about.

I was grudgingly honest. "Not in Phoenix."

His lips pressed together into a hard line.

We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine.  I took advantage of his brief pause to take a bite of my bagel.

"You’ll have to get a ride home with Bella today," he announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed.

"Why?" I demanded.

"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay."

"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew morose… and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."

I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no  matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter, I repeated in my head.

"No," I whispered, glancing back at his face. "I can't."

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in color as I watched. I changed the subject. 

"What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already depressed by the thought of him leaving now.

"That depends… it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" he offered.

"No," I answered too fast. He restrained a smile.

"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Charlie be there?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.

His voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"

"I have no idea," I answered coolly. "He knows I once took a three day bender through the desert on my bike. Maybe he’ll think I took off the Montana this time."

He scowled at me and I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive than mine.

"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when I was sure I had lost the glowering contest.

"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." He seemed bemused by my casual reference to his  secret realities.

“Are you going alone?”

“No, with Alice.”

"Why are you going with Alice?" I wondered.

"Alice is the most… supportive." He frowned as he spoke.

"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?"

His brow puckered for a brief moment. "Incredulous, for the most part."

I peeked quickly behind me at his family. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across  from me, his golden eyes troubled.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

"That's not it," he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. "They don't understand why I can't leave  you alone."

I grimaced. "Neither do I, for that matter."

Edward shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling before he met my gaze again. "I told  you — you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me."

I glared at him, sure he was teasing now.  He smiled as he deciphered my expression. 

"Having the advantages I do," he murmured, touching his  forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But  you… you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."

I looked away, my eyes wandering back to his family, embarrassed and dissatisfied. His words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.

"That part is easy enough to explain," he continued. I felt his eyes on my face but I couldn't look at him yet, afraid he might read the chagrin in my eyes. "But there's more… and it's not so easy to put into  words —"

I was still staring at the Cullens while he spoke. Suddenly Rosalie, his blond and breathtaking sister,  turned to look at me. No, not to look — to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her  gaze held me until Edward broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath. It was  almost a hiss.

Rosalie turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edward — and I knew he could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.

His face was tight as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see… it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly…" He looked down.

"If?"

"If this ends… badly." He dropped his head into his hands, as he had that night in Port Angeles. His  anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort him, but I was at a loss to know how. My hand reached toward him involuntarily; quickly, though, I dropped it to the table, fearing that my touch would only make things worse. I realized slowly that his words should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could seem to feel was an ache for his pain.  And frustration — frustration that Rosalie had interrupted whatever he was about to say. I didn't know how to bring it up again. He still had his head in his hands.

I tried to speak in a normal voice. "And you have to leave now?"

"Yes." He raised his face; it was serious for a moment, and then his mood shifted and he smiled. "It's  probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology — I don't think I could take any more."

I started. Alice — her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face — was suddenly standing behind his shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute stillness.

He greeted her without looking away from me. "Alice."

"Edward," she answered, her high soprano voice almost as attractive as his.

"Alice, Beau — Beau, Alice," he introduced us, gesturing casually with his hand, a wry smile on his face.

"Hello, Beau." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Edward flashed a dark look at her.

"Hi, Alice," I murmured shyly.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

His voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."

She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to him.

"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." He grinned.

"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn't fool him.

"I'll try." He still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."

"Safe in Forks — what a challenge."

"For you it is a challenge." His jaw hardened. "Promise."

"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight — that ought to be fraught with peril."

"Don't fall in," he mocked.

"I'll do my best."

He stood then, and I rose, too.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.

"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" he mused.

I nodded glumly. 

"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling his crooked smile. He reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my cheekbone again. Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him until he was gone. I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym, but a warning instinct stopped. I knew that if I disappeared now, Mike and others would assume I was with Edward. And Edward was worried about the time we'd spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to dwell on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things safer for him.

I intuitively knew — and sensed he did, too — that tomorrow would be pivotal. Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon his decision, or his instincts. My decision was made, made before I'd ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him. It was an impossibility.

I went to class, feeling dutiful. I couldn't honestly say what happened in Biology; my mind was too  preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In Gym, Mike was speaking to me again; he wished me a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained that I'd canceled my trip, worried it might rain while I was riding.

"Are you going to the dance with Cullen?" he asked, suddenly sulky.

"No, I'm not going to the dance at all."

"What are you doing, then?" he asked, too interested.

My natural urge was to tell him to butt out. Instead, I lied brightly.

"Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I'm going to fail."

"Is Cullen helping you study?"

"Edward," I emphasized, "is not going to help me study. He's gone away somewhere for the weekend."

The lies came more naturally than usual, I noted with surprise.

"Oh." He perked up. "You know, you could come to the dance with our group anyway — that would be cool. We'd all dance with you," he promised.

The mental image of playing relationship expert between him and Jessica made my tone sharp.

"I'm not going to the dance, Mike, okay?"

"Fine." He sulked again. "I was just offering."

When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I slid in the leather seat and waited for Bella. There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I unfolded it.

Two words were written in his elegant script.

**_Be safe._ **

How did he-? I didn’t finish the thought.I was starting to believe that nothing was impossible for him.  The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself. I hadn’t even notice Bella get in. 

“Why aren't you riding with Edward?” 

“He had… errands to run.” She seemed to accept that. We drove home in silence.  Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. I needed to do a load of i wanted something to wear tomorrow. I asked Bella if she needed anything washed. She didn’t.  Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called Jessica on the pretense of  wishing her luck at the dance. When she offered the same wish for my day with Edward, I told her about the cancellation. She was more disappointed than really necessary for a third-party observer to be. I said goodbye quickly after that.

Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the lasagna — it was hard to tell with Charlie.

"You know, Dad…" Bella began, breaking into my reverie.

"What's that, Bella?” 

“I’m going to go to Angela’s tomorrow get ready with her, if that’s okay…” Bella wanted to get her plans approved. 

“You don’t need me to take pictures or help do something?” Charlie had never had a dance experience either.

“No dad. I’ll be fine.” 

"You're sure easy to live with, Bella." He smiled.

"I could say the same thing about you," She said, laughing. The sound of my laughter was off as I joined them, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving them that I almost took Edward's advice and told the both of them where I would be. Almost.

After dinner, Bella offered to cut my hair. It had been getting too long since I came to forks, she said. Unfortunately it was the kind of job that required absolute stillness of my body, not my thoughts. My mind definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain, and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I had to keep reminding myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled his note out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the two small words he'd written. He wants me to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that desire would win out over the others. 

And what was my other choice — to cut him out of my life?  Intolerable. 

Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it really seemed like my life was about him.  But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt very much… if it ended  badly.

I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd never done before. I myself a cup of Bella's sleepy tea, she was obsessed with it but I thought it looked like the drip pan of an oil change. It tasted as bad as it smelled, but tomorrow would be complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else. While I waited for the tea to kick in, washed the cut hair off my neck, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper; I couldn't stop twitching. I sat up and rifled through my music on my phone until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual parts of my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the tea actually took effect, and I gladly sank into unconsciousness.

I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly, maybe the tea wasn't so bad. Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush,  smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the flannel till it hung right over my jeans. I looked in at Bella but she was still snoring. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.

I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I hurried off to the studio and waited. I began realizing what a stupid plan this had been. If he met me here he would see all the paintings of him, of his eyes. I had just finished covering the last canvas when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.

I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple latch, but I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's fears seemed very foolish with him here.

He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression lightened as he looked me  over, and he laughed.

"Good morning," he chuckled.

"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.

"You cut your hair" He laughed again. 

“Is it that bad?” It was the same high fade with a long top I had before, only slightly shorter. 

“No no I like it really.” I smoothed it nervously. l realized he had a long, light tan sweater, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. He looked effortless as always. I laughed, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did he have to look like a runway model when I couldn't?  He turned and walked across the lawn. He stopped and leaned against the truck.

“Let’s Go.” He waited like he wanted me to unlock it. 

“Let’s.” I swung myself over the motorcycle. He was angry then.

“I don’t think so Beau.”

“You said that I could drive.”

“I thought you meant the truck!” 

“I don’t drive cars.” He was pacing, deciding what to do.

“Look, a deal is a deal.” I Said turning on the engine. He stopped and glared at me, I rolled forward slightly.

“Fine!” He got on the back. I barely felt him behind me at all. 

“You know the one oh one?” He shouted. I nodded and revved. 

“Don’t you dare!” I peeled out of the driveway sending gravel flying. Edward balanced perfectly. I drove down the roads surging with adrenaline, from both the ride and my passenger. I stopped briefly when I reached the road he mentioned.

"Now we drive until the pavement ends." He said coldly. This isn’t how I pictured it. My adrenaline gave me some false bravery and I grabbed him arms and wrapped them around me. 

“Like I need to hold on…”  I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of falling off the bike to try to see it.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.

"A trail."

"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn boots.

"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.

"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. 

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."

Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.  I turned the bike down the road and peeled away again. Halfway down I revved again and popped the front tire off the road. Edward cursed but then laughed. I reached the end of the road. 

He got off the bike before I even stopped. 

“And you complain about my driving.”

“I like being in charge.” He laughed at that. 

"What are you thinking?" he asked after a long silence

I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."

"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced upward at the thinning clouds after he spoke.

"Charlie said it would be warm today."

"And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" he asked.

"Nope."

"But Bella thinks we're going to Be together?" He seemed cheered by the idea.

"No, I told her I was going to search for inspiration - which is true."

"No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now.

"That depends… I assume you told Alice?"

"That's very helpful, Beau," he snapped.  I pretended I didn't hear that.

"Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" he demanded when I ignored him.

"You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly," I reminded him.

"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me— if you don't come home?" His voice was still  angry, and bitingly sarcastic.

I nodded.

He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn't understand.  I looked down afraid because he was angry with me and I didn't have riding as an  excuse not to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my flannel and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd worn an old thin shirt underneath - especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.

I heard him shift slightly, and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too. He was facing away  from me, into the unbroken forest beside the bike.

"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. He started into the dark forest.

"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up to him.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."

"No trail?" I asked desperately.

“You ride a motorcycle with no helmet but are afraid to hike?”

“How will we find our way back?”

"I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp. His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes. He was too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way this godlike creature could be meant for me.

He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.

"Do you want to go home?" he said quietly, a different pain than mine saturating his voice.

"No." I walked forward till I was close beside him, anxious not to waste one second of whatever time  I might have with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very patient."

"I can be patient — if I make a great effort." He smiled, holding my glance, trying to lift me out of my  sudden, unexplained dejection.

I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. He scrutinized my face.

"I'll take you home," he promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was unconditional, or restricted to an  immediate departure. I knew he thought it was fear that upset me, and I was grateful again that I was the one person whose mind he couldn't hear.

"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd better start leading the way,"  I said acidly. He frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone and expression.

He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.  It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us over fallen trees or boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I was clear. His cold touch on my skin never failed to make my heart thud erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a look on his face that made me sure he could somehow hear it.

I tried to keep my eyes away from his perfection as much as possible, but I slipped often. Each time, his beauty pierced me through with sadness.

For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a random question that he hadn't  gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. He asked about my birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood pets — and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I'd given up on the whole institution. He laughed at that, louder than I was used to — bell-like echoes bouncing back to us from the empty woods.

The hike took me most of the morning, but he never showed any sign of impatience. The forest spread  out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I began to be nervous that we would never  find our way out again. He was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.  After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as he'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement — which quickly turned to impatience.

"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.

"Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"

I peered into the thick forest. "Um, should I?"

He smirked. "Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."

"Time to visit the optometrist," I muttered. His smirk grew more pronounced.

But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that  was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this with him, but he wasn't behind me where I thought he'd be. I spun around, searching for him with sudden alarm.

Finally I spotted him, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the meadow had driven from my mind — the enigma of Edward and the sun, which he'd promised to illustrate for me today.

I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes were wary, reluctant. I smiled  encouragingly and beckoned to him with my hand, taking another step back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.

Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.


	13. Confessions

Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon.  His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in the grass, his shirt open over his  sculpted, incandescent chest, his scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lids were shut,  though of course he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble,  glittering like crystal.

Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they were trembling. But, when I asked, he told me he was singing to himself; it was too low for me to hear.  I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn't quite dry enough for my taste. I would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm my face. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees, unwilling to take my eyes off him. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled the grass that swayed around his motionless form.  The meadow, so spectacular to me at first, paled next to his magnificence.

Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, too beautiful to be real… hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as stone. When I looked up again, his eyes were open, watching me. Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. His quick smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips.

"I don't scare you?" he asked playfully, but I could hear the real curiosity in his soft voice.

"No more than usual."

He smiled wider; his teeth flashed in the sun.  I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours of his forearm with my fingertips.  I saw that my fingers trembled, and knew it wouldn't escape his notice.

"Do you mind?" I asked, for he had closed his eyes again.

"No," he said without opening his eyes. "You can't imagine how that feels." He sighed.

I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish veins  inside the crease at his elbow. With my other hand, I reached to turn his hand over. Realizing what I  wished, he flipped his palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of his. It startled me; my fingers froze on his arm for a brief second.

"Sorry," he murmured. I looked up in time to see his golden eyes close again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."

I lifted his hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun glitter on his palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see the hidden facets in his skin.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. I looked to see his eyes watching me, suddenly intent.  "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."

"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."

"It's a hard life." Did I imagine the hint of regret in his tone? "But you didn't tell me."

"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking…" I hesitated.

"And?"

"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn't afraid."

"I don't want you to be afraid." His voice was just a soft murmur. I heard what he couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear.

"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to think about."

So quickly that I missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up on his right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel's face was only a few inches from mine. I might have — should have — flinched away from his unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes mesmerized me.

"What are you afraid of, then?" he whispered intently.

But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled his cool breath in my face. Sweet,  delicious, the scent made my mouth water. It was unlike anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.

And he was gone, his hand ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyes to focus, he was twenty feet  away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. He stared at me, his eyes dark in the shadows, his expression unreadable.  I could feel the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung.

"I'm… sorry… Edward," I whispered. I knew he could hear.

"Give me a moment," he called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears. I sat very still.

After ten incredibly long seconds, he walked back, slowly for him. He stopped, still several feet away,  and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing his legs. His eyes never left mine. He took two deep breaths, and then smiled in apology.

"I am so very sorry." He hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"

I nodded once, not quite able to smile at his joke. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as the realization  of danger slowly sank in. He could smell that from where he sat. His smile turned mocking.

"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in — my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!" Unexpectedly, he was on his feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight, only to appear beneath the same tree as before, having circled the meadow in half a second.

"As if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly.

He reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly ripped a two-foot-thick branch  from the trunk of the spruce. He balanced it in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding  speed, shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow.  And he was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone.

"As if you could fight me off," he said gently.

I sat without moving, more frightened of him than I had ever been. I'd never seen him so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade. He'd never been less human… or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I sat like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake.

His lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. His  expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his velvet voice unintentionally seductive. "I promise…" He hesitated.  "I swear not to hurt you." He seemed more concerned with convincing himself than me.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered again as he stepped closer, with exaggerated slowness. He sat sinuously, with deliberately unhurried movements, till our faces were on the same level, just a foot apart.

"Please forgive me," he said formally. "I can control myself. You caught me off guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."

He waited, but I still couldn't speak.

"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." He winked.

At that I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless.

"Are you all right?" he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place his marble hand back in  mine.

I looked at his smooth, cold hand, and then at his eyes. They were soft, repentant. I looked back at his  hand, and then deliberately returned to tracing the lines in his hand with my fingertip. I looked up and  smiled timidly.  His answering smile was dazzling.

"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" he asked in the gentle cadences of an earlier century.

"I honestly can't remember."

He smiled, but his face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason."

"Oh, right."

"Well?"

I looked down at his hand and doodled aimlessly across his smooth, iridescent palm. The seconds ticked by.

"How easily frustrated I am," he sighed. I looked into his eyes, abruptly grasping that this was every bit as new to him as it was to me. As many years of unfathomable experience as he had, this was hard for him, too. I took courage from that thought.

"I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should." I looked down at his hands as I spoke. It was difficult for me to say this aloud.

"Yes," he agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest."

I frowned.

"I should have left long ago," he sighed. "I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."

"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.

"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

"I'm glad."

"Don't be!" He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was harsher than usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than any human voice. It was hard to keep up — his sudden mood changes left me always a step behind, dazed.

"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you than  I am to anyone else." He stopped, and I looked to see him gazing unseeingly into the forest.

I thought for a moment.

"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean — by that last part anyway," I said. He looked back at me and smiled, his mood shifting yet again.

"How do I explain?" he mused. "And without frightening you again… hmmmm." Without seeming to think about it, he placed his hand back in mine; I held it tightly in both of mine. He looked at our hands.

"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." He sighed.

A moment passed as he assembled his thoughts.

"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" he began. "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"

I nodded.

"Sorry about the food analogy — I couldn't think of another way to explain."

I smiled. He smiled ruefully back.

"You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it. But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic.  Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac —  and filled the room with its warm aroma — how do you think he would fare then?"  We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes — trying to read each other's thoughts.

He broke the silence first.

"Maybe that's not the right comparison given the situation. Maybe instead think of a heroin addict."

"So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood and detour from my outburst. 

He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."

"Does that happen often?" I asked.

He looked across the treetops, thinking through his response.

"I spoke to my brothers about it." He still stared into the distance. "To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." He glanced swiftly at me, his expression apologetic.

"Sorry," he said.

"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That's the way  you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain however you can."

He took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again.

"So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" — he hesitated, looking for the right word — "appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."

"And for you?"

"Never."

The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.

It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenched into a fist inside mine. He  looked away. I waited, but he wasn't going to answer.

"I guess I know," I finally said.  He lifted his eyes; his expression was wistful, pleading.

"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"

"What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'd intended. I tried to make my  tone kinder — I could guess what his honesty must cost him. "I mean, is there no hope, then?" How  calmly I could discuss my own death!

"No, no!" He was instantly contrite. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of course I won't…" He left the  sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine. "It's different for us. Emmett… these were strangers he  happened across. It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he is now."

He fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.

"So if we'd met… oh, in a dark alley or something…" I trailed off.

"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and —" He stopped  abruptly, looking away. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself." He paused, scowling at the trees.

He glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. "You must have thought I was possessed."

"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…"

"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow…"  He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his bitter memories. His golden eyes  scorched from under his lashes, hypnotic and deadly.

"You would have come," he promised.

I tried to speak calmly. "Without a doubt."

He frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of his stare. "And then, as I tried to  rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there — in that close, warm little  room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human  there — so easily dealt with."  I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes, only now grasping the danger.  Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.

"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school.

It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I  left the others near home — I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong — and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving."

I stared in surprise.

"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it  wasn't necessary… By the next morning I was in Alaska." He sounded ashamed, as if admitting a great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little boy" — he grinned suddenly — "to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back…" He stared off into space.

I couldn't speak.

"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure that I was  strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it.

"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your  reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in  Jessica's mind… her mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I  couldn't know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating." He frowned at the  memory.

"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting,  I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again… Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly  good excuse for why I acted at that moment — because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been  spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are.  But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not him.’"

He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I listened, more eager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to finally understand. And I was filled with  compassion for his suffering, even now, as he confessed his craving to take my life.

I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. "In the hospital?"

His eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power — you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out. "But it had the opposite effect," he continued quickly. "I fought with Rosalie,  Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time… the worst fight we've ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice." He grimaced when he said her name. I couldn't imagine why. "Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay." He shook his head indulgently.

"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your  word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair… it hit me as hard as the very first day."  He met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.

"And for all that," he continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here — with no witnesses and nothing to stop me — I were to hurt you."

I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"

"Beaufort." He pronounced my full name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair with his free hand. A  shock ran through my body at his casual touch. "Beau, I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you.  You don't know how it's tortured me." He looked down, ashamed again. "The thought of you, still, white, cold… to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable." He lifted his glorious, agonized eyes to mine. 

"You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."

My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had taken. From the cheerful  topic of my impending demise, we were suddenly declaring ourselves. He waited, and even though I  looked down to study our hands between us, I knew his golden eyes were on me.

"You already know  how I feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here… which, roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you." I frowned. "I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot," he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.

"What a stupid lamb," I sighed.

"What a sick, masochistic lion." He stared into the shadowy forest for a long moment, and I wondered  where his thoughts had taken him.

"Why… ?" I began, and then paused, not sure how to continue.

He looked at me and smiled; sunlight glinted off his face, his teeth.

"Yes?"

"Tell me why you ran from me before."

His smile faded. "You know why."

"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I'll have to be on my guard, you see, so I better start learning what I shouldn't do. This, for example" — I stroked the back of his hand — "seems to be all right."

He smiled again. "You didn't do anything wrong, Beau. It was my fault."

"But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you."

"Well…" He contemplated for a moment. "It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alienness… I wasn't expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your throat." He stopped short, looking to see if he'd upset me.

"Okay, then," I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. "No  throat exposure."

It worked; he laughed. "No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else.  He raised his free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I sat very still, the chill of his touch a natural warning — a warning telling me to be terrified. But there was no feeling of fear in me. There were, however, other feelings…

"You see," he said. "Perfectly fine."

My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so much more difficult — the thudding of my pulse in my veins. Surely he could hear it.

"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," he murmured. He gently freed his other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly he brushed my cheek, then held my face between his marble hands.

"Be very still," he whispered, as if I wasn't already frozen.

Slowly, never moving his eyes from mine, he leaned toward me. Then abruptly, but very gently, he rested his cold cheek against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to. I listened to the sound of his even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in his bronze hair, more human than any other part of him.  With deliberate slowness, his hands slid down the sides of my neck. I shivered, and I heard him catch his breath. But his hands didn't pause as they softly moved to my shoulders, and then stopped.  His face drifted to the side, his nose skimming across my collarbone. He came to rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against my chest.  Listening to my heart.

"Ah," he sighed.

I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but he didn't move or speak again as he held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end — so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't make myself be afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that he was touching me.

And then, too soon, he released me.  His eyes were peaceful.

"It won't be so hard again," he said with satisfaction.

"Was that very hard for you?"

"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"

"No, it wasn't bad… for me."

He smiled at my inflection. "You know what I mean."

I smiled.

"Here." He took my hand and placed it against his cheek. "Do you feel how warm it is?"

And it was almost warm, his usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, for I was touching his face, something  I'd dreamed of constantly since the first day I'd seen him.

"Don't move," I whispered.

No one could be still like Edward. He closed his eyes and became as immobile as stone, a carving under my hand.  I moved even more slowly than he had, careful not to make one unexpected move. I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked his eyelid, the purple shadow in the hollow under his eye. I traced the shape of his perfect nose, and then, so carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my hand, and I could feel his cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent of him. So I dropped my hand and leaned away, not wanting to push him too far.

He opened his eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear, but rather to tighten the  muscles in the pit of my stomach and send my pulse hammering through my veins again.

"I wish," he whispered, "I wish you could feel the… complexity… the confusion… I feel. That you could understand."  He raised his hand to my hair, then carefully brushed it backwards.

"Tell me," I breathed.

"I don't think I can. I've told you, on the one hand, the hunger — the thirst — that, deplorable creature  that I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though" — he half-smiled — "as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can't empathize completely.

"But…" His fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again. "There are other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are foreign to me."

"I may understand that better than you think."

"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"

"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Never before this."  He held my hands between his. They felt so feeble in his iron strength.

"I don't know how to be close to you," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."  I leaned forward very slowly, cautioning him with my eyes. I placed my cheek against his stone chest.  I could hear his breath, and nothing else.

"This is enough," I sighed, closing my eyes.  In a very human gesture, he put his arms around me and pressed his face against my hair.

"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted.

"I have human instincts — they may be buried deep, but they're there."  We sat like that for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if he could be as unwilling to move as

I was. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed.

"You have to go."

"I thought you couldn't read my mind."

"It's getting clearer." I could hear a smile in his voice.  He took my shoulders and I looked into his face.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, sudden excitement flaring in his eyes.

"Show me what?"

"I'll show you how I travel in the forest." He saw my expression. "Don't worry, you'll be very safe, and we'll get back much faster" His mouth twitched up into that crooked smile so beautiful my heart nearly stopped.

"Will you turn into a bat?" I asked warily.

He laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "Like I haven't heard that one before!"

"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."

"Come on, little coward, climb on my back."

I waited to see if he was kidding, but, apparently, he meant it. He smiled as he read my hesitation, and  reached for me. My heart reacted; even though he couldn't hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away. He then proceeded to sling me onto his back, with very little effort on my part, besides, when in place, clamping my legs and arms so tightly around him that it would choke a normal person. It was like clinging to a stone.

"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack," I warned.

"Hah!" he snorted. I could almost hear his eyes rolling. I'd never seen him in such high spirits before.  He startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to his face, and inhaling deeply.

"Easier all the time," he muttered.

And then he was running.  If I'd ever feared death before in his presence, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. He streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no  sound, no evidence that his feet touched the earth. His breathing never changed, never indicated any  effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.  I was too mystified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against my face and burned them.

I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in my life, I felt the dizzy faintness of motion sickness.  Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Edward's meadow, and now, in a matter of  minutes, we were back to the road.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" His voice was high, excited.  He stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around him while my head spun uncomfortably.

"Beau?" he asked, anxious now.

"I think I need to lie down," I gasped.

"Oh, sorry." He waited for me, but I still couldn't move.

"I think I need help," I admitted.  He laughed quietly, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on his neck. There was no resisting the iron strength of his hands. Then he pulled me around to face him, cradling me in his arms like a small child.  He held me for a moment, then carefully placed me on the springy ferns.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I couldn't be sure how I felt when my head was spinning so crazily. "Dizzy, I think."

"Put your head between your knees."  I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly, keeping my head very still. I felt him sitting beside me. The moments passed, and eventually I found that I could raise my head. There was a hollow ringing sound in my ears.

"Now we’re even for your little bike stunt,” he mused.

“Even,” I agreed. He laughed

"Hah! You're as white as a ghost — no, you're as white as me!" He was soaking it in. 

"I think I should have closed my eyes."

"Remember that next time."

"Next time!" I groaned.  He laughed, his mood still radiant.

"Show-off," I muttered.

"Open your eyes, Beau," he said quietly.

And he was right there, his face so close to mine. His beauty stunned my mind — it was too much, an  excess I couldn't grow accustomed to.

"I was thinking, while I was running…" He paused.

"About not hitting the trees, I hope."

"Silly Beau," he chuckled. "Running is second nature to me, it's not something I have to think about."

"Show-off," I muttered again.  He smiled.

"No," he continued, "I was thinking there was something I wanted to try." And he took my face in his  hands again.

I couldn't breathe.

He hesitated — not in the normal way, the human way.  Not the way a man might hesitate before he kissed a woman, to gauge her reaction, to see how he would be received. Perhaps he would hesitate to prolong the moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, sometimes better than the kiss itself.  Edward hesitated to test himself, to see if this was safe, to make sure he was still in control of his need.  And then his cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.

What neither of us was prepared for was my response.

Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild gasp. My fingers knotted in his hair, clutching him to me. My lips parted as I breathed in his heady scent. Immediately I felt him turn to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. His hands gently, but with irresistible force, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and saw his guarded expression.

"Oops," I breathed.

"That's an understatement."

His eyes were wild, his jaw clenched in acute restraint, yet he didn't lapse from his perfect articulation.  He held my face just inches from his. He dazzled my eyes.

"Should I… ?" I tried to disengage myself, to give him some room.  His hands refused to let me move so much as an inch.

"No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please." His voice was polite, controlled.

I kept my eyes on his, watched as the excitement in them faded and gentled.  Then he smiled a surprisingly impish grin.

"There," he said, obviously pleased with himself.

"Tolerable?" I asked.

He laughed aloud. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."

"I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry."

"You are only human, after all."

"Thanks so much," I said, my voice acerbic.

He was on his feet in one of his lithe, almost invisibly quick movements. He held out his hand to me, an unexpected gesture. I was so used to our standard of careful non-contact. I took his icy hand, needing the support more than I thought. My balance had not yet returned.

"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How lighthearted, how human he  seemed as he laughed now, his seraphic face untroubled. He was a different Edward than the one I had known. And I felt all the more besotted by him. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from him now. I made a decision right then that I never would.

"I can't be sure, I'm still woozy," I managed to respond. "I think it's some of both, though."

"Maybe you should let me drive home."

"Are you insane?" I protested. 

“I know how.” 

"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves could take it."

"Some trust, please, Beau."  I pursed my lips, deliberated, then shook my head with a tight grin.

"Nope. Not a chance."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.  I started to step around him, heading for the bike. He might have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not have. His arm created an inescapable snare around my waist.

"Beau, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you attempt Balance this when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends ride drunk," he quoted with a chuckle. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest.

"Drunk?" I objected.

"You're intoxicated by my very presence." He was grinning that playful smirk again.

"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn't resist him in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching his hand flash out and grab it. 

"And are you not affected at all?" I asked, irked. "By my presence?"

Again his mobile features transformed, his expression became soft, warm. He didn't answer at first; he simply bent his face to mine, and brushed his lips slowly along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, back and forth. I trembled.

"Regardless," he finally murmured, "I have better reflexes."


	14. Mind over Matter

He could drive well, when he kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit. Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless to him. He barely looked at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as a centimeter from the center of the lane.  Sometimes he gazed into the setting sun, sometimes he glanced at me — my face, my hair blowing, or down at my hands tightly gripping each other around his waist.  He had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a song I'd never heard. He knew  every line.

"You like fifties music?" I asked. Knowing only he could hear me over the bike. 

"Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!" He shuddered.

"The eighties were bearable."

"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked, tentative, not wanting to upset his buoyant  humor.

"Does it matter much?" His smile, to my relief, remained unclouded.

"No, but I still wonder…" I grimaced. "There's nothing like an unsolved mystery to keep you up at night."

"I wonder if it will upset you," he reflected to himself. He gazed into the sun; the minutes passed.

"Try me," I finally said.  He sighed, and then looked down at my hands, seeming to forget the road completely for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. He looked into the sun — the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the rest. He smiled a tiny smile and continued. "Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza."

He heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. He looked down at my hands again.

"I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."

"Your parents?"

"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."

"How did he… save you?"  A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully.

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always  been the most humane, the most compassionate of us… I don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history." He paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."  I could tell from his tone he would say no more on this subject. I suppressed my curiosity,  though it was far from idle. There were many things I needed to think through on this particular issue,  things that were only beginning to occur to me. No doubt his quick mind had already comprehended  every aspect that eluded me.

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's usually the reason behind the  choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff.  They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating."

"So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and I couldn't frame it now.

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his father figure. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if the blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.

"And Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. I didn't realize till much later that he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him — he was careful with his thoughts around me." He laughed. 

"But she was never more than a sister. It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting — we were in Appalachia at the time — and found a bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm only beginning to  guess how difficult that journey was for her." He touched the top of my hands gently. 

"But she made it," I encouraged. 

"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been  together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we  pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school." He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again."

"Alice and Jasper?"

"Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another… family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."

"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who could hear people's  thoughts."

"That's true. She knows other things. She sees things — things that might happen, things that are coming.  But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change."

His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.

"What kinds of things does she see?"

“She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."

"Are there a lot of… your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk among us undetected?

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting you people" — a sly glance in my direction — "can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together."

"And the others?"

"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we  run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."

"Why is that?"  We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the bike. It was very quiet and almost dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew my father wasn't home yet.

"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" he teased. "Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years."

"So that's where the legends came from?"

"Probably."

"And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?"

"No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who  created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or  how, he could. If she hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage."  There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued, I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."

"I'm fine, really."

"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."

"I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction to him.

"Can't I come in?" he asked.

"Would you like to?" I couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sitting in my father's shabby kitchen chair.

"Yes, if it's all right." He stood up quickly and offered me his hand. 

"Very human," I complimented him.

"It's definitely resurfacing."  He walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek at him constantly to be sure he was still there.  In the darkness he looked much more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the  fantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon.  He reached the door ahead of me and opened it for me. I paused halfway through the frame.

"The door was unlocked?"

"No, I used the key from under the eave."

I stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at him with my eyebrows raised. I was  sure I'd never used that key in front of him.

"I was curious about you."

"You spied on me?" But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the proper outrage. I was flattered.

He was unrepentant. "What else is there to do at night?"

I let it go for the moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. He was there before me, needing no  guide. He sat in the very chair I'd tried to picture him in. His beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before I could look away.

I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from the fridge, placing a square on a  plate, heating it in the microwave. It revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. I didn't take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.

"How often?" I asked casually.

"Hmmm?" He sounded as if I had pulled him from some other train of thought.

I still didn't turn around. "How often did you come here?"

"I come here almost every night."

I whirled, stunned. "What do you do? Watch me sleep!?"

"No, I mostly look at the paintings in your studio.”

"No!" I gasped, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I gripped the kitchen counter for  support. I realized suddenly he had seen all the canvasses I tried so hard to cover up earlier. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about before then.

His expression shifted instantly to chagrin. "Are you very angry with me?"

"That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out of me.

He waited.

"On?" he urged.

"Well, on what you saw!" I wailed. Instantly, silently, he was at my side, taking my hands carefully in his.

"Don't be upset!" he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of my eyes, holding my gaze. I was  embarrassed. I tried to look away.

“Yes I’ve seen your work. I quite like it. It’s interesting, the way it’s all slightly blurred, as if you see everything at 80 miles an hour.” I was uncomfortable talking about my art. It’s not something I really ever showed anyone, beside Bella. But knowing he liked it pleased me more than it embarrassed me. “I think maybe some of them have a striking resemblance….”  He laughed softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.

"Anything else?" I demanded.

He looked down at the floor. “I did see you sleep once. You said my name," he admitted.

I sighed in defeat. "When?"

"The day you fell asleep washing paint brushes” 

I hung my head.

He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally.

"Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it."

Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I stiffened in his arms.

"Should your father know I'm here?" he asked.

"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly.

"Another time then…"

And I was alone.

"Edward!" I hissed.

I heard a ghostly chuckle, then nothing else.  My father's key turned in the door.

"Beau?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be? Suddenly he didn't seem so far off base.

"In here." I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical edge to my voice. I grabbed my dinner from the  microwave and sat at the table as he walked in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with Edward.

"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed." He stepped on the heels of his boots to take them off,  holding the back of Edward's chair for support.  I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. It burned my tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while his lasagna was heating, and gulped mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticed the milk trembling and realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the chair, and the contrast between him and its former occupant was comical.

"Thanks," he said as I placed his food on the table.

"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape to my room.

"Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?"

"Sure, it was a nice day, lots of inspiration." I took another big bite.

"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought to myself.

“Bella won’t be back from the dance until late.” I reminded him. He nodded. Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains of my milk. 

Charlie surprised me by being observant. "In a hurry?"

"Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early."

"You look kinda keyed up," he noted. Why, oh why, did this have to be his night to pay attention?

"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishes clean in the sink, and placed  them upside down on a dish towel to dry.

"It's Saturday," he mused.

I didn't respond.

"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.

"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep."

"None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious, but trying to play it cool.

"No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet." I was careful not to over-emphasize the word boys in  my quest to be truthful with Charlie.

"I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly."

"He's Just a friend, Dad, and very straight"

"Well, you're too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college to start looking." Every father's  dream, that his son will be out of the house before the hormones kick in.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs.

"'Night, Bud, " he called after me. No doubt he would be listening carefully all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out.

"See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight at midnight to check on me.

I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairs to my room. I shut the door  loud enough for him to hear, and then sprinted on my tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned  out into the night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of the trees.

"Edward?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic.

The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"

I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise.  He lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, his hands behind his head, his feet dangling off the end, the picture of ease.

"Oh!" I breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor.

"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips together, trying to hide his amusement.

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart."

He sat up slowly, so as not to startle me again. Then he leaned forward and reached out with his long  arms to pick me up, gripping the tops of my arms like I was a toddler. He sat me on the bed beside him.

"Why don't you sit with me," he suggested, putting a cold hand on mine. "How's the heart?"

"You tell me — I'm sure you hear it better than I do."  I felt his quiet laughter shake the bed.  We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat slow. I thought about having Edward in my room, with my father in the house.

"Can I have a minute to be human?" I asked.

"Certainly." He gestured with one hand that I should proceed.

"Stay," I said, trying to look severe.

"Yes, sir." And he made a show of becoming a statue on the edge of my bed.  I hopped up, grabbing my pajamas from off the floor, my bag of toiletries off the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door.  I could hear the sound from the TV rising up the stairs. I banged the bathroom door loudly, so Charlie  wouldn't come up to bother me. 

I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth fiercely, trying to be thorough and speedy, removing all traces of  lasagna. But the hot water of the shower couldn't be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse. The familiar smell of my shampoo made me feel like I might be the same person I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Edward, sitting in my room, waiting, because then I had to start all over with the calming process. Finally, I couldn't delay anymore. I shut off the water, toweling hastily, rushing again. I pulled on my gray sweatpants. I didn’t sleep with a shirt on and in my rush hadn’t thought to grab one. It was too late now.  I rubbed the towel through my hair again, and then looked over myself in the mirror. I threw the towel in the hamper, flung my brush and toothpaste into my bag. Then I dashed down the stairs so Charlie  could see that I was in my pajamas, with wet hair.

"'Night, Dad."

"'Night, Beau." He did look startled by my appearance. Maybe that would keep him from checking on  me tonight.

I took the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet, and flew into my room, closing the door tightly behind  me.  Edward hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, a carving of Adonis perched on my faded quilt. I smiled, and his lips twitched, the statue coming to life.

His eyes appraised me, taking in the damp hair, the lack of shirt. He raised one eyebrow. "Nice."

I grimaced.

"No, you look good." I remembered how he had looked in the meadow, next to that I was nothing. 

"Thanks," I whispered. I went back to his side, sitting cross-legged beside him. I looked at the lines in the wooden floor.

"What was all that for?"

"Charlie thinks I'm sneaking out."

"Oh." He contemplated that. "Why?" As if he couldn't know Charlie's mind much more clearly than I  could guess.

"Apparently, I look a little overexcited."  He lifted my chin, examining my face.

"You look very warm, actually."  He bent his face slowly to mine, laying his cool cheek against my skin. I held perfectly still.

"Mmmmmm…" he breathed.  It was very difficult, while he was touching me, to frame a coherent question. It took me a minute of  scattered concentration to begin.

"It seems to be… much easier for you, now, to be close to me."

"Does it seem that way to you?" he murmured, his nose gliding to the corner of my jaw. I felt his hand,  lighter than a moth's wing, tilting my head back, so that his lips could touch the hollow beneath my ear.

"Much, much easier," I said, trying to exhale.

"Hmm."

"So I was wondering…" I began again, but his fingers were slowly tracing my collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

"Yes?" he breathed.

"Why is that," my voice shook, embarrassing me, "do you think?"

I felt the tremor of his breath on my neck as he laughed. "Mind over matter."

I pulled back; as I moved, he froze — and I could no longer hear the sound of his breathing.  We stared cautiously at each other for a moment, and then, as his clenched jaw gradually relaxed, his  expression became puzzled.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No — the opposite. You're driving me crazy," I explained.

He considered that briefly, and when he spoke, he sounded pleased. "Really?" A triumphant smile slowly lit his face.

"Would you like a round of applause?" I asked sarcastically.

He grinned.

"I'm just pleasantly surprised," he clarified. "In the last hundred years or so," his voice was teasing, "I  never imagined anything like this. I didn't believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in  another way than my brothers and sisters. And then to find, even though it's all new to me, that I'm good at it… at being with you…"

"You're good at everything," I pointed out.  He shrugged, allowing that, and we both laughed in whispers.

"But how can it be so easy now?" I pressed. "This afternoon…"

"It's not easy," he sighed. "But this afternoon, I was still… undecided. I am sorry about that, it was  unforgivable for me to behave so."

"Not unforgivable," I disagreed.

"Thank you." He smiled. "You see," he continued, looking down now, "I wasn't sure if I was strong  enough…" He picked up one of my hands and pressed it lightly to his face. "And while there was still that possibility that I might be… overcome" — he breathed in the scent at my wrist — "I was… susceptible.  Until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would… that  I ever could…"  I'd never seen him struggle so hard for words. It was so… human.

"So there's no possibility now?"

"Mind over matter," he repeated, smiling, his teeth bright even in the darkness.

"Wow, that was easy," I said.  He threw back his head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly.

"Easy for you!" he amended, touching my nose with his fingertip.  And then his face was abruptly serious.

"I'm trying," he whispered, his voice pained. "If it gets to be… too much, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."

I scowled. I didn't like the talk of leaving.

"And it will be harder tomorrow," he continued. "I've had the scent of you in my head all day, and I've  grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again.  Not quite from scratch, though, I think."

"Don't go away, then," I responded, unable to hide the longing in my voice.

"That suits me," he replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile. "Bring on the shackles — I'm your  prisoner." But his long hands formed manacles around my wrists as he spoke. He laughed his quiet,  musical laugh. He'd laughed more tonight than I'd ever heard in all the time I'd spent with him.

"You seem more… optimistic than usual," I observed. "I haven't seen you like this before."

"Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He smiled. "The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it,  the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?"

"Very different," I agreed. "More forceful than I'd imagined."

"For example" — his words flowed swiftly now, I had to concentrate to catch it all — "the emotion of  jealousy. I've read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand different plays and movies. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shocked me…" He grimaced. “Do you remember the day that all those girls asked you to the dance?"

I nodded, though I remembered that day for a different reason. "The day you started talking to me again."

"I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt — I didn't recognize what it was at  first. I was even more aggravated than usual that I couldn't know what you were thinking, why you  refused them. Was it simply for your friend's sake? Was there someone else? I knew I had no right to care either way. I tried not to care.  And then the line started forming," he chuckled. I scowled in the darkness.

"I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I  couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I couldn't be sure.  That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night,pacing in your studio, with the chasm  between what I knew was right, moral, ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore  you as I should, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you would say yes to One of them, or someone like them. It made me angry."

"And then," he whispered, "that day you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I  thought you'd woken. But you turned your head over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer." He was silent for a moment, probably listening to the suddenly uneven pounding of my heart.  "But jealousy… it's a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would have thought. And irrational! Just now, when Charlie asked you about that vile Mike Newton…" He shook his head angrily.

"I should have known you'd be listening," I groaned.

"That made you feel jealous, though, really?"

"I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh."

"But honestly," I teased, "for that to bother you, after I have to hear that Rosalie — Rosalie, the  incarnation of pure beauty, Rosalie — was meant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete  with that?"

"There's no competition." His teeth gleamed. He drew my trapped hands around his back, holding me to his chest. I kept as still as I could, even breathing with caution.

"I know there's no competition," I mumbled into his cold skin. "That's the problem."

"Of course Rosalie is beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn't like a sister to me, even if she was a man. she could never have one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me."

He was serious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind, and yours… all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything,  because you weren't alive yet."

"It hardly seems fair," I whispered, my face still resting on his chest, listening to his breath come and go. "I haven't had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?"

"You're right," he agreed with amusement. "I should make this harder for you, definitely." He freed one of his hands, released my wrist, only to gather it carefully into his other hand. He stroked my back softly, from the top of my neck to my waist. "You only have to risk your life every second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have to turn your back on nature, on humanity… what's that worth?"

"Very little — I don't feel deprived of anything."

"Not yet." And his voice was abruptly full of ancient grief.

I tried to pull back, to look in his face, but his hand locked my wrists in an unbreakable hold.

"What —" I started to ask, when his body became alert. I froze, but he suddenly released my hands, and  disappeared. I narrowly avoided falling on my face.

"Lie down!" he hissed. I couldn't tell where he spoke from in the darkness.

I rolled under my quilt, balling up on my side, the way I usually slept. I heard the door crack open, as  Charlie peeked in to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. I breathed evenly, exaggerating the movement.  A long minute passed. I listened, not sure if I'd heard the door close. Then Edward's cool arm was  around me, under the covers, his lips at my ear.

"You are a terrible actor— I'd say that career path is out for you."

"Damn it," I muttered. My heart was crashing in my chest.

He hummed a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby.

He paused. "Should I sing you to sleep?"

"Right," I laughed. "Like I could sleep with you here!"

"You do it all the time," he reminded me.

"But you’re never in the room," I replied icily.

“That’s true.” He thought for a moment, still stroking my back. 

"So if you don't want to sleep…" he suggested, ignoring my tone. My breath caught.

"If I don't want to sleep… ?"

He chuckled. "What do you want to do then?"

I couldn't answer at first.

"I'm not sure," I finally said.

"Tell me when you decide."  I could feel his cool breath on my neck, feel his nose sliding along my jaw, inhaling.

"I thought you were desensitized."

"Just because I'm resisting the wine doesn't mean I can't appreciate the bouquet," he whispered. "You  have a very floral smell, like lavender… or freesia," he noted. "It's mouthwatering."

"Yeah, it's an off day when I don't get somebody telling me how edible I smell."  He chuckled, and then sighed.

"I've decided what I want to do," I told him. "I want to hear more about you."

"Ask me anything."

I sifted through my questions for the most vital. "Why do you do it?" I said. "I still don't understand how you can work so hard to resist what you… are. Please don't misunderstand, of course I'm glad that you do. I just don't see why you would bother in the first place."

He hesitated before answering. "That's a good question, and you are not the first one to ask it. The others — the majority of our kind who are quite content with our lot — they, too, wonder at how we live. But you see, just because we've been… dealt a certain hand… it doesn't mean that we can't choose to rise above — to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we can."  I lay unmoving, locked in awed silence.

"Did you fall asleep?" he whispered after a few minutes.

"No."

"Is that all you were curious about?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not quite."

"What else do you want to know?"

"Why can you read minds — why only you? And Alice, seeing the future… why does that happen?"

I felt him shrug in the darkness. "We don't really know. Carlisle has a theory… he believes that we all  bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified — like our minds, and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had some precognition, wherever she was."

"What did he bring into the next life, and the others?"

"Carlisle brought his compassion. Esme brought her ability to love passionately. Emmett brought his  strength, Rosalie her… tenacity. Or you could call it pigheadedness." he chuckled. "Jasper is very  interesting. He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence those around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions of those around him — calm down a room of angry people, for example, or excite a lethargic crowd, conversely. It's a very subtle gift."  I considered the impossibilities he described, trying to take it in. He waited patiently while I thought.

"So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and then someone must have changed him, and so on…"

"Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn't we have evolved in the same way an  other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don't believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby seal and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?"

"Let me get this straight — I'm the baby seal, right?"

"Right." He laughed, and something touched my hair — his lips?  I wanted to turn toward him, to see if it was really his lips against my hair. But I had to be good; I didn't want to make this any harder for him than it already was.

"Are you ready to sleep?" he asked, interrupting the short silence. "Or do you have any more questions?"

"Only a million or two."

"We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…" he reminded me. I smiled, euphoric at the  thought.

"Are you sure you won't vanish in the morning?" I wanted this to be certain. "You are mythical, after all."

"I won't leave you." His voice had the seal of a promise in it.

"One more, then, tonight…" And I blushed. The darkness was no help — I'm sure he could feel the  sudden warmth under my skin.

"What is it?"

"No, forget it. I changed my mind."

"Beau, you can ask me anything."

I didn't answer, and he groaned.

"I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just gets worse and worse."

"I'm glad you can't read my thoughts. It's bad enough that you eavesdrop on my canvases."

"Please?" His voice was so persuasive, so impossible to resist.

I shook my head.

"If you don't tell me, I'll just assume it's something much worse than it is," he threatened darkly.

"Please?"

Again, that pleading voice.

"Well," I began, glad that he couldn't see my face.

"Yes?"

"You said that Rosalie and Emmett will get married soon… Is that… marriage… the same as it is for  humans?"

He laughed in earnest now, understanding. "Is that what you're getting at?"

I fidgeted, unable to answer.

"Yes, I suppose it is much the same," he said. "I told you, most of those human desires are there, just  hidden behind more powerful desires."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Was there a purpose behind your curiosity?"

"Well, I did wonder… about you and me… someday…"

He was instantly serious, I could tell by the sudden stillness of his body. I froze, too, reacting  automatically.

"I don't think that… that… would be possible for us."

"Because it would be too hard for you, if I were that… close?"

"That's certainly a problem. But that's not what I was thinking of. It's just that you are so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions every moment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could kill you quite easily, Beau, simply by accident." His voice had become just a soft murmur. He moved his icy palm to rest it against my cheek. "If I was too hasty… if for one second I wasn't paying enough attention, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don't realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, never afford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."  He waited for me to respond, growing anxious when I didn't. 

"Are you scared?" he asked.

I waited for a minute to answer, so the words would be true. "No. I'm fine."

He seemed to deliberate for a moment. "I'm curious now, though," he said, his voice light again. "Have  you ever… ?" He trailed off suggestively.

"Of course not." I flushed. "I told you I've never felt like this about anyone before, not even close."

"I know. It's just that I know other people's thoughts. I know love and lust don't always keep the same  company."

"They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all," I sighed.

"That's nice. We have that one thing in common, at least." He sounded satisfied.

"Your human instincts…" I began. He waited. "Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?"

He laughed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.

"I may not be a human, but I am a man," he assured me.

I yawned involuntarily.

"I've answered your questions, now you should sleep," he insisted.

"I'm not sure if I can."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" I said too loudly.  He laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the voice of an archangel, soft in my ear.  More tired than I realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional stress like I'd never felt before, I drifted to sleep in his cold arms.

A thud on the bed woke me from my dreamless sleep. I shot up right.

“Edward?!” I heard a giggle beside me.

“No, it’s your other favorite person.” My eyes adjusted and I saw Bella next to me. My heart sank, Edward had broken his promise and left after all. 

“Oh,” 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” She mused. I laid back down.

“How was the dance?” 

“It was…… everything, you know what I mean?” I thought of the everything I had had today.

“Oh I know” I said a little too wistfully. 

“You saw Edward today didn’t you?” Was I so transparent. 

“Yes.”

“I thought you might.” 

“How was Jacob?” I redirected not so subtly.  We locked eyes and had one of our silent conversations. 

_ He’s amazing,  _ I nodded and raised my eyebrows. She blushed, so they had kissed. 

“You deserve to be happy.” I meant every word intensely. I remembered her taking care of our mother, cleaning up after her, picking her up from bars at closing, mediating our fights. She kept the peace and our tiny threads of pretend family together. I think I’m some level she felt guilt, like having us young had ruined Renée’s life, and Bella wanted to make up for it. I hated that she might feel that way. 

“Don’t think about that.” I looked up, she had been reading my expression. “This is a new chapter, and you deserve happiness too.”

I forced a smile.  _ Okay, okay,  _ I made it say. 

“I’ll let you get back to sleep, although I don’t know how you can,” she paused “your bed is freezing.” She shut the window and then the door behind her. I sighed and rolled over. I felt a cold arm wrap around me and jumped. He froze.

“Sorry.” 

“No I just, where did you go?” My heart was racing. 

“I hardly felt it appropriate to be seen in bed with you.” He chuckled. My heart started to find a normal rhythm. I rolled over and pressed my face into his chest, taking in a deep breath of his sweet scent. 

“I thought you’d left me.” He pulled me closer. And pushed his face in my hair. 

“I believe, unfortunately, that is an impossibility.” It felt like he kissed my head lightly but I couldn’t be sure. Once again he hummed me to sleep. 


	15. The Cullens

The muted light of yet another cloudy day eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I moaned and rolled on my side, hoping more sleep would come. And then the previous day flooded back into my awareness.

"Oh!" I sat up so fast it made my head spin.

"Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it." His unruffled voice came from the chair in the  corner.

"Edward! You stayed!" I rejoiced, and thoughtlessly threw myself across the room and into his lap. In the instant that my thoughts caught up with my actions, I froze, shocked by my own uncontrolled enthusiasm.  I stared up at him, afraid that I had crossed the wrong line.  But he laughed.

"Of course," he answered, startled, but seeming pleased by my reaction. His hands rubbed my back.  I laid my head cautiously against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin.

"I was sure it was a dream."

"You're not that creative," he scoffed.

"Charlie!" I remembered, thoughtlessly jumping up again and heading to the door.

"He left an hour ago — and Bella left too, I might add. I have to admit I’m very nervous about her growing relationship with the young Jacob Black.”  I deliberated where I stood, wanting to return to him badly, but afraid I might have morning breath.

"Are you always this confused in the morning," he noted. He held his arms open for me to return. A  nearly irresistible invitation.

"I need another human minute," I admitted.

"I'll wait."

I strode to the bathroom, my emotions unrecognizable. I didn't know myself, inside or out. The face in the mirror was practically a stranger — green eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones.  After I brushed my teeth, I worked to smooth out my slightly curling hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to breathe normally, with no noticeable success. I half-ran back to my room.  It seemed like a miracle that he was there, his arms still waiting for me. He reached out to me, and my heart thumped unsteadily.

"Welcome back," he murmured, taking me into his arms.

He Held me for a while in silence, until I noticed that his clothes were changed, his hair smooth.

"You left?" I accused, touching the collar of his fresh shirt.

"I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in — besides you were talking with Bella remember?"

I pouted.

"You were completely distracted; I didn't miss anything." His eyes gleamed. "Besides The sleep talking came earlier."

I groaned. "What did you hear?"

His gold eyes grew very soft. "You said you loved me."

"You knew that already," I reminded him, ducking my head.

"It was nice to hear, just the same."  I hid my face against his shoulder.

"I love you," I whispered.

"You are my life now," he answered simply.  There was nothing more to say for the moment. He gently ran his fingers on my back as the room grew lighter. I became aware of my lack of shirt once more. It felt silly to care now, after all it hadn’t mattered all night. But something about the light made me nervous. 

“I think I better put a shirt on, now that it’s morning you know?” 

“Why? I’ve seen you shirtless in the day time before.” 

“When!” I jumped out of the chair. 

“When you painted outside.” He said it as if I should remember.

“Oh,” 

“Which reminds me,” he was suddenly behind me “what, Beau Swan, is this.” Edward touched my tattoo lightly. 

“Do you not know what a tattoo is?” I tried to be mocking but I was breathless. He chuckled. 

“Maybe what isn’t the right question. Why?” 

I remembered back to the day I had gotten it. Illegally I might add. I had been riding all day, no intentions of going home. Renée had crossed the line again and not even Bella could mediate that fight. I was finally going to leave and Bella would follow, I told myself. By the time the anger wore off I could see how impossible that sounded. Bella wouldn’t leave and I would have to face leaving her there alone. Together was the only way we had ever survived our mom. I was torn and spent the whole next day riding around the same town trying to make a decision I could live with, there wasn’t one. For the first and only time in my life I got drunk. Looking at my bloodshot eyes in the bathroom mirror was all it took to snap me back, I wasn’t going to be another Renée. I was still drunk when I sat down in the chair and got a single rose crossing over a knife tattooed down the center of my back. The symbolism of Bella as the rose had my sense to my drunk self. When I woke up I rode straight home and never let Renée lay a hand on either one of us again. 

“Tattoos are sexy.” I couldn't bring myself to get into it. For some reason I felt an overwhelming urge to protect him from that part of my life.  He looked at me quizzically in the reflection of the window, then slowly kissed it. My breath hitched as he did.

"Well it is certainly more enticing on you than I ever thought they were before." He traced over it with his ginger tips. 

"Breakfast time," he said eventually, casually — to prove, I'm sure, that he remembered all my human  frailties.  So I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at him with wide eyes. Shock crossed his face.

"Kidding!" I snickered. "And you said I couldn't act!"

He frowned in disgust. "That wasn't funny."

"It was very funny, and you know it." But I examined his gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was  forgiven. Apparently, I was.

"Shall I rephrase?" he asked. "Breakfast time for the human."

"Oh, okay."  He threw me over his stone shoulder, gently, but with a swiftness that left me breathless. I protested as he carried me easily down the stairs, but he ignored me. He sat me right side up on a chair.  The kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to absorb my mood.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked pleasantly.

That threw him for a minute.

"Er, I'm not sure. What would you like?" His marble brow puckered.

I grinned, hopping up.

"That's all right, I fend for myself pretty well. Watch me hunt."

I found a bowl and a box of cereal. I could feel his eyes on me as I poured the milk and grabbed a  spoon. I sat my food on the table, and then paused.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, not wanting to be rude.

He rolled his eyes. "Just eat, Beau."

I sat at the table, watching him as I took a bite. He was gazing at me, studying my every movement. It  made me self-conscious. I cleared my mouth to speak, to distract him.

"What's on the agenda for today?" I asked.

"Hmmm…" I watched him frame his answer carefully. "What would you say to meeting my family?"

I gulped.

"Are you afraid now?" He sounded hopeful.

"Yes," I admitted; how could I deny it — he could see my eyes.

"Don't worry." He smirked. "I'll protect you."

"I'm not afraid of them," I explained. "I'm afraid they won't… like me. Won't they be, well, surprised that you would bring someone… like me… home to meet them? Do they know that I know about them?"

"Oh, they already know everything. They'd taken bets yesterday, you know" — he smiled, but his voice was harsh — "on whether I'd bring you back, though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can't imagine. At any rate, we don't have secrets in the family. It's not really feasible, what with my mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that."

"And Jasper making you feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts, don't forget that."

"You paid attention," he smiled approvingly.

"I've been known to do that every now and then." I grimaced. "So did Alice see me coming?"

His reaction was strange. "Something like that," he said uncomfortably, turning away so I couldn't see his eyes. I stared at him curiously.

"Is that any good?" he asked, turning back to me abruptly and eyeing my breakfast with a teasing look on his face. "Honestly, it doesn't look very appetizing."

"Well, it's no irritable grizzly…" I murmured, ignoring him when he glowered. I was still wondering why he responded that way when I mentioned Alice. I hurried through my cereal, speculating.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, the statue of Adonis again, staring abstractedly out the back  windows.

Then his eyes were back on me, and he smiled his heartbreaking smile.

"And you should introduce me to your father, too, I think."

"He already knows you," I reminded him.

"As your boyfriend, I mean."

I stared at him with suspicion. "Why?"

"Isn't that customary?" he asked innocently.

"I don't know," I admitted. My dating history gave me few reference points to work with. Not that any  normal rules of dating applied here. "That's not necessary, you know. I don't expect you to… I mean,  you don't have to pretend for me."

His smile was patient. "I'm not pretending."

I pushed the remains of my cereal around the edges of the bowl, biting my lip.

"Are you going to tell Charlie I'm your boyfriend or not?" he demanded.

"Is that what you are?" I suppressed my internal cringing at the thought of Edward and Charlie and the word boyfriend all in the same room at the same time.

"It's a loose interpretation of the word 'boy,' I'll admit."

"I was under the impression that you were something more, actually," I confessed, looking at the table.

"Well, I don't know if we need to give him all the gory details." He reached across the table to lift my chin with a cold, gentle finger. "But he will need some explanation for why I'm around here so much. I don't want Chief Swan getting a restraining order put on me."

"Will you be?" I asked, suddenly anxious. "Will you really be here?"

"As long as you want me," he assured me.

"I'll always want you," I warned him. "Forever."

He walked slowly around the table, and, pausing a few feet away, he reached out to touch his fingertips to my cheek. His expression was unfathomable.

"Does that make you sad?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He stared into my eyes for an immeasurable period of time.

"Are you finished?" he finally asked.

I jumped up. "Yes."

"As much as I don't want you to. I think you should get dressed — I'll wait here."

It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette books detailing how to dress  when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet his vampire family. It was a relief to think the  word to myself. I knew I shied away from it intentionally.  I found jeans with no holes and no paint, that was a good start. I grabbed one of the few long sleeve shirts I had, it was navy and thanks to Charlie’s attempt to do laundry had shrunk just a little. It didn’t cling to me the way Edwards clothes did to him, but still it didn’t do a horrible job. I grabbed my timberlands without question and shoved them on. A quick glance in the mirror told me my hair was entirely impossible, so I pushed it back and prayed for the best.

"Okay." I barreled down the stairs. "I'm decent."  He was waiting at the foot of the stairs, closer than I'd thought, and I bounded right into him. He steadied me, holding me a careful distance away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer.

"Wrong again," he murmured in my ear. "You are utterly indecent — no one should look so tempting,  it's not fair."

"Tempting how?" I asked. "I can change…"

He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so absurd." He pressed his cool lips delicately to my forehead,  and the room spun. The smell of his breath made it impossible to think.

"Shall I explain how you are tempting me?" he said. It was clearly a rhetorical question. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and I felt lightheaded again. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool lips to mine for the second time, very carefully, parting them slightly.  And then I collapsed.

"Beau?" His voice was alarmed as he caught me and held me up.

"You… made… me… faint," I accused him dizzily.

"What am I going to do with you?" he groaned in exasperation. "Yesterday I kiss you, and you attack  me! Today you pass out on me!"

I laughed weakly, letting his arms support me while my head spun.

"So much for being good at everything," he sighed.

"That's the problem." I was still dizzy. "You're too good. Far, far too good."

"Do you feel sick?" he asked; he'd seen me like this before.

"No — that wasn't the same kind of fainting at all. I don't know what happened." I shook my head  apologeticallv, "I think I forgot to breathe."

"I can't take you anywhere like this."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Your family is going to think I'm insane anyway, what's the difference?"

He measured my expression for a moment. "I'm very partial to that color with your skin," he offered  unexpectedly. I flushed with pleasure, and looked away.

"Look, I'm trying really hard not to think about what I'm about to do, so can we go already?" I asked.

"And you're worried, not because you're headed to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires won't approve of you, correct?"

"That's right," I answered immediately, hiding my surprise at his casual use of the word. 

He shook his head. "You're incredible." We stepped outside and I locked the door. 

“Hold on a Minute.” He looked at me quizzically as I turned and headed to the studio shed. I rummaged quickly and found the small 8x8 canvas I was searching for. I jogged back to him on the porch. He looked at the painting. 

“For your mom.” He smiled. 

“That reminds me, have something for you.” Edward produced a helmet and fire safe riding jacket. I rolled my eyes. “Please, Humor me.” His eyes were so sincere. 

“Fine.” I slipped on the jacket. It fit perfectly like it was seen for me. He handed me the helmet. I groaned internally, he was so overbearing. 

“It really is amazing you’ve managed not to kill yourself on this thing.” Edward slung himself over the bike. I would’ve fought him but the thought of getting to wrap around him was too enticing.  I realized, as he drove out of the main part of town, that I had no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us  growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether, driving through misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpent like, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small  meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, for there were six  primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their  protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep  porch that wrapped around the first story.

I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and  probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well  proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration.  There were no other cars in sight. He stopped the engine. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest. 

"Wow."

"You like it?" He smiled.

"It… has a certain charm." I took off my new helmet and placed it on the back of the bike.  Edward rubbed his thumb on the back of my neck and chuckled.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Not even a little bit — let's go." I tried to laugh, but it seemed to get stuck in my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously.

"You look lovely." He took my hand easily, without thinking about it.  We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew he could feel my tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.  He opened the door for me.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open,  and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular rand piano, were Edward's parents.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn't help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I guessed.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edward's voice broke the short silence, "this is Beau.”

"You're very welcome, Beau." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could feel Edward's relief at my side.

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I  expected.

"It's very nice to know you," she said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you, too." And I was. It was like meeting a fairy tale — Snow White, in the flesh. “This is for you.” I handed her the painting. It was small and suddenly being in the house I knew it was not their level of decor. 

“Roses?” She breathed. 

“Your favorite.” Carlisle smiled at Esme. 

“Yes,” I managed, “Edward told me about your gardens once.” She looked up, her eyes full of a soft emotion I couldn’t place. 

“It’s very beautiful. Thank you.” She reached out hesitantly, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. I could see why Edward loved his family. I had a desperate wish for Esme to be my mother too. She dropped my hand and smiled. 

"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the  top of the wide staircase.

"Hey, Edward!" Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white  skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was natural — for her, anyway.

"Hi, Beau!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked  cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in my eyes, too, but I was also very  pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edward stiffen at my side.  I glanced at his face, but his expression was unreadable.

"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she commented, to my extreme embarrassment.  No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there — tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite where I was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.

"Hello, Beau" Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

"Hello, Jasper." I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. "It's nice to meet you all — you have a very beautiful home," I added conventionally.

"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave.  I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edward's  too-innocent denial when I'd asked him if the others didn't like me.  Carlisle's expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward nod once.

I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my Bella. She wasn't really good — she only played for herself on our secondhand upright — but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed — she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, someone outside the "caretaker" persona I took for granted. 

Esme noticed my preoccupation.

"Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

I shook my head. "Not at all. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," she laughed. "Edward didn't tell you he was musical?"

"No." I glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "I should have known, I guess."

Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.

"Edward can do everything, right?" I explained.

Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look.

"I hope you haven't been showing off— it's rude," she scolded.

"Just a bit," he laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I didn't understand, though Esme's face seemed almost smug.

"He's been too modest, actually," I corrected.

"Well, play for him," Esme encouraged.

"You just said showing off was rude," he objected.

"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied.

"I'd like to hear you play," I volunteered.

"It's settled then." Esme pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside him.

He gave me a long, exasperated look before he turned to the keys. And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so  complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my reaction.

Edward looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. "Do you  like it?"

"You wrote this?" I gasped, understanding.

He nodded. "It's Esme's favorite."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling extremely insignificant."

The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody of his  lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.

"You inspired this one," he said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.

I couldn't speak.

"They like you, you know," he said conversationally. "Esme especially."

I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.

"Where did they go?"

"Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose."

I sighed. "They like me. But Rosalie and Emmett…" I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.

He frowned. "Don't worry about Rosalie," he said, his eyes wide and persuasive. "She'll come around."

I pursed my lips skeptically. "Emmett?"

"Well, he thinks I'm a lunatic, it's true, but he doesn't have a problem with you. He's trying to reason with Rosalie."

"What is it that upsets her?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

He sighed deeply. "Rosalie struggles the most with… with what we are. It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she's a little jealous."

"Rosalie is jealous of me?" I asked incredulously. I tried to imagine a universe in which someone as  breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealous of someone like me.

"You're human." He shrugged. "She wishes that she were, too."

"Oh," I muttered, still stunned. "Even Jasper, though…"

"That's really my fault," he said. "I told you he was the most recent to try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance."

I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered.

"Esme and Carlisle… ?" I continued quickly, to keep him from noticing.

"Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet.  All this time she's been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle changed me… She's ecstatic. Every time you touch me, she just about chokes with satisfaction." It made me feel good, for some reason, that Esme was happy with something I’d done. 

"Alice seems very… enthusiastic."

"Alice has her own way of looking at things," he said through tight lips.

"And you're not going to explain that, are you?"

A moment of wordless communication passed between us. He realized that I knew he was keeping  something from me. I realized that he wasn't going to give anything away. Not now.

"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"

His eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, did you?"

I shrugged. "Of course. Bella and I have conversations without talking all the time.” 

He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news — he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."

"Will you?"

"I have to, because I'm going to be a little… overbearingly protective over the next few days — or  weeks — and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes… well, they aren't like us, of course — in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."

I shivered.

"Finally, a rational response!" he murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of  self-preservation at all."

I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.

He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice smug.

"No," I admitted.

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs… what a disappointment this must be for you," he continued slyly.

I ignored his teasing. "It's so light… so open."

He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."

The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.

"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed at them, embarrassed.  He touched the corner of my eye, trapping one I missed. He lifted his finger, examining the drop of  moisture broodingly. Then, so quickly I couldn't be positive that he really did, he put his finger to his  mouth to taste it.  I looked at him questioningly, and he gazed back for a long moment before he finally smiled.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"No coffins?" I verified, the sarcasm in my voice not entirely masking the slight but genuine anxiety I felt.

He laughed, taking my hand, leading me away from the piano.

"No coffins," he promised.

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room… Carlisle's office… Alice's room…" He gestured as he led me past the  doors.  He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edward chuckled at my bewildered expression.

"You can laugh," he said. "It is sort of ironic."

I didn't laugh. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked. 

"It must be very old," I guessed.

He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

I looked away from the cross to stare at him.

"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."

"He collected antiques?" I suggested doubtfully.

"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."

I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.

"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.

"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edward said. I looked back at him, a  million questions in my eyes.  He watched me carefully as he spoke.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listened. It was easier if I didn't try to believe.

"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an  intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for  witches, werewolves… and vampires." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.

"They burned a lot of innocent people — of course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.

"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a  disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was  persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived  hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.  The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" — his brief laugh was darker now — "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

His voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.

"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others  when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three  and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle."  He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from me.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned — anything infected by the  monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.  It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I assured him. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, he must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.

He smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."

"A few."  His smile widened over his brilliant teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand.

"Come on, then," he encouraged. "I'll show you."


	16. Family History

He led me back to the room that he'd pointed out as Carlisle's office. He paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice invited.

Edward opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were  paneled again, in a darker wood — where they were visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by  towering bookshelves that reached high above my head and held more books than I'd ever seen outside  a library.  Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume he held. The room was how I'd always imagined a college dean's would look — only  Carlisle looked too young to fit the part.

"What can I do for you?" he asked us pleasantly, rising from his seat.

"I wanted to show Beau some of our history," Edward said. "Well, your history, actually."

"We didn't mean to disturb you," I apologized.

"Not at all. Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Edward replied, placing one hand lightly on my shoulder and spinning me around to  look back toward the door we'd just come through. Every time he touched me, in even the most casual  way, my heart had an audible reaction. It was more embarrassing with Carlisle there.

The wall we faced now was different from the others. Instead of bookshelves, this wall was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes, some in vibrant colors, others dull monochromes. I searched for some logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but I found nothing in my hasty examination.  Edward pulled me toward the far left side, standing me in front of a small square oil painting in a plain  wooden frame. This one did not stand out among the bigger and brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of sepia, it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs, with thin spires atop a few scattered towers. A wide river filled the foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like tiny cathedrals.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," Edward said.

"The London of my youth," Carlisle added, from a few feet behind us. I flinched; I hadn't heard him  approach. Edward squeezed my hand.

"Will you tell the story?" Edward asked. I twisted a little to see Carlisle's reaction.

He met my glance and smiled. "I would," he replied. "But I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital  called this morning — Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do," he added, grinning at Edward now.

It was a strange combination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in seventeenth-century London.  It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for my benefit.  After another warm smile for me, Carlisle left the room.  I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment.

"What happened then?" I finally asked, staring up at Edward, who was watching me. "When he realized what had happened to him?"

He glanced back to the paintings, and I looked to see which image caught his interest now. It was a  larger landscape in dull fall colors — an empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a craggy peak in the distance.

"When he knew what he had become," Edward said quietly, "he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy  himself. But that's not easily done."

"How?" I didn't mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through my shock.

"He jumped from great heights," Edward told me, his voice impassive. "He tried to drown himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist… feeding… while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try to kill himself with starvation."

"Is that possible?" My voice was faint.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed."  I opened my mouth to ask, but he spoke before I could.

"So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself.

"One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared.  Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He  could exist without being a demon. He found himself again.

"He began to make better use of his time. He'd always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now he had  unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and —"

"He swam to France?"

"People swim the Channel all the time, Beau," he reminded me patiently.

"That's true, I guess. It just sounded funny in that context. Go on."

"Swimming is easy for us —"

"Everything is easy for you," I griped.

He waited, his expression amused.

"I won't interrupt again, I promise." I made a little x across my heart with my finger.

He chuckled darkly, and finished his sentence. "Because, technically, we don't need to breathe."

"You —"

"No, no, you promised." He laughed, putting his cold finger lightly to my lips. "Do you want to hear the  story or not?"

"You can't spring something like that on me, and then expect me not to say anything," I mumbled against  his finger.

He lifted his hand, moving it to rest against my neck. The speed of my heart reacted to that, but I  persisted.

"You don't have to breathe?" I demanded.

"No, it's not necessary. Just a habit." He shrugged.

"How long can you go… without breathing?"

"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable — being without a sense of smell."

"A bit uncomfortable," I echoed.  I wasn't paying attention to my own expression, but something in it made him grow somber. His hand  dropped to his side and he stood very still, his eyes intent on my face. The silence lengthened. His  features were immobile as stone.

"What is it?" I whispered, touching his frozen face.

His face softened under my hand, and he sighed. "I keep waiting for it to happen."

"For what to happen?"

"I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is going to be too much. And then you'll run away from me, screaming as you go." He smiled half a smile, but his eyes were serious. "I won't stop you. I want this to happen, because I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile…" He trailed off, staring at my face.  Waiting.

"I'm not running anywhere," I promised.

"We'll see," he said, smiling again.

I frowned at him. "So, go on — Carlisle was swimming to France."

He paused, getting back into his story. Reflexively, his eyes flickered to another picture — the most  colorful of them all, the most ornately framed, and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung  next to. The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes, writhing around long pillars and off marbled balconies. I couldn't tell if it represented Greek mythology, or if the characters floating in the clouds above were meant to be biblical.

"Carlisle swam to France, and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine — and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives." His expression became awed, almost reverent. "I can't adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to perfect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital…" Edward stared off into space for a long moment. Suddenly he seemed to recall his purpose.  He tapped his finger against the huge painting in front of us.

"He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and  educated than the wraiths of the London sewers."

He touched a comparatively sedate quartet of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down  calmly on the mayhem below them. I examined the grouping carefully and realized, with a startled laugh, that I recognized the golden-haired man.

"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods," Edward chuckled.

"Aro, Marcus, Caius," he said, indicating the other three, two black-haired, one snowy-white.  "Nighttime patrons of the arts."

"What happened to them?" I wondered aloud, my fingertip hovering a centimeter from the figures on the canvas.

"They're still there." He shrugged. "As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle  stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food source,' as they called it.  They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see.

"He didn't find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. But the companionship he craved evaded him; he couldn't risk familiarity.

"When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He'd been turning over an idea in his mind for several years, and he had almost decided to act — since he couldn't find a companion, he would create one. He wasn't absolutely sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone's life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try…"  His voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. He stared unseeingly through the west windows. I wondered which images filled his mind now, Carlisle's memories or his own. I waited quietly.  When he turned back to me, a gentle angel's smile lit his expression.

"And so we've come full circle," he concluded.

"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" I wondered.

"Almost always." He put his hand lightly on my waist and pulled me with him as he walked through the door. I stared back at the wall of pictures, wondering if I would ever get to hear the other stories.

Edward didn't say any more as we walked down the hall, so I asked, "Almost?"

He sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. "Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence — about  ten years after I was… born… created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on his life of  abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time."

"Really?" I was intrigued, rather than frightened, as I perhaps should have been.  He could tell. I vaguely realized that we were headed up the next flight of stairs, but I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings.

"That doesn't repulse you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I guess… it sounds reasonable."  He barked a laugh, more loudly than before. We were at the top of the stairs now, in another paneled  hallway.

"From the time of my new birth," he murmured, "I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That's why it took me ten years to defy Carlisle — I could read his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did.  It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the… depression… that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl — if I saved her, then surely I wasn't so terrible."

I shivered, imagining only too clearly what he described — the alley at night, the frightened girl, the dark man behind her. And Edward, Edward as he hunted, terrible and glorious as a young god, unstoppable.  Would she have been grateful, that girl, or more frightened than before?

"But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn't escape the debt of so much  human life taken, no matter how justified. And I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me  back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved."

We'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," he informed me, opening it and pulling me through.

His room faced south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below. The whole back side of the house must be glass. His view looked down on the winding Sol Duc River, across the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than I would have believed.  The western wall was completely covered with shelf after shelf of CDs. His room was better stocked  than a music store. In the corner was a sophisticated-looking sound system, the kind I was afraid to touch because I'd be sure to break something. There was no bed, only a wide and inviting black leather sofa. The floor was covered with a thick golden carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.

"Good acoustics?" I guessed.  He chuckled and nodded.  He picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the soft jazz number sounded like the band was in the room with us. I went to look at his mind-boggling music collection.

"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles.

He wasn't paying attention.

"Ummm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," he said absently.

I turned, and he was looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes.

"What?"

"I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me… happy." He shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I'm glad," I said, smiling back. I'd worried that he might regret telling me these things. It was good to  know that wasn't the case. Suddenly I felt guilty for keeping part of my past from him. B ut then, as his eyes dissected my expression, his smile faded and his forehead creased.

"You're still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren't you?" I guessed.

A faint smile touched his lips, and he nodded.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really not as scary as you think you are. I don't find you scary at all, actually," I lied casually.  He stopped, raising his eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then he flashed a wide, wicked smile.

"You really shouldn't have said that," he chuckled.

He growled, a low sound in the back of his throat; his lips curled back over his perfect teeth. His body  shifted suddenly, half-crouched, tensed like a lion about to pounce.  I backed away from him, glaring.

"You wouldn't."  I didn't see him leap at me — it was much too fast. I only found myself suddenly airborne, and then we crashed onto the sofa, knocking it into the wall. All the while, his arms formed an iron cage of protection around me — I was barely jostled. But I still was gasping as I tried to right myself.  He wasn't having that. He curled me into a ball against his chest, holding me more securely than iron  chains. I glared at him in alarm, but he seemed well in control, his jaw relaxed as he grinned, his eyes  bright only with humor.

"You were saying?" he growled playfully.

"That you are a very, very terrifying monster," I said, my sarcasm marred a bit by my breathless voice.

"Much better," he approved.

"Um." I struggled. "Can I get up now?"

He just laughed.

"Can we come in?" a soft voice sounded from the hall.  I struggled to free myself, but Edward merely readjusted me so that I was somewhat more conventionally seated on his lap. I could see it was Alice, then, and Jasper behind her in the doorway. My cheeks burned, but Edward seemed at ease.

"Go ahead." Edward was still chuckling quietly.

Alice seemed to find nothing unusual in our embrace; she walked — almost danced, her movements  were so graceful — to the center of the room, where she folded herself sinuously onto the floor.  Jasper, however, paused at the door, his expression a trifle shocked. He stared at Edward's face, and I wondered if he was tasting the atmosphere with his unusual sensitivity.

"It sounded like you were having Beau for lunch, and we came to see if you would share," Alice  announced.

I stiffened for an instant, until I realized Edward was grinning — whether at her comment or my response,  I couldn't tell.

"Sorry, I don't believe I have enough to spare," he replied, his arms holding me recklessly close.

"Actually," Jasper said, smiling despite himself as he walked into the room, "Alice says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?"

The words were all common enough, but the context confused me. I gathered that Alice was a bit more reliable than the weatherman, though.  Edward's eyes lit up, but he hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Beau," Alice chirped. I thought I saw Jasper throw a quick glance at her.

"Do you want to go?" Edward asked me, excited, his expression vivid.

"Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "Um, where are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball — you'll see why," he promised.

"Will I need an poncho?"

They all three laughed aloud.

"Will he?" Jasper asked Alice.

"No." She was positive. "The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing."

"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Jasper's voice was catching, naturally. I found myself eager, rather than scared stiff.

"Let's go see if Carlisle will come." Alice bounded up and to the door in a fashion that would break any ballerina's heart.

"Like you don't know," Jasper teased, and they were swiftly on their way. Jasper managed to  inconspicuously close the door behind them.

"What will we be playing?" I demanded.

"You will be watching," Edward clarified. "We will be playing baseball."

I rolled my eyes. "Vampires like baseball?"

"It's the American pastime," he said with mock solemnity.


	17. America's Pastime

It was just beginning to drizzle when Edward turned onto my street. Up until that moment, I'd had no  doubt that he'd be staying with me while I spent a few interim hours in the real world.  And then I saw the black car, a weathered Ford, parked in Charlie's driveway — and heard Edward  mutter something unintelligible in a low, harsh voice.  Leaning away from the rain under the shallow front porch, Jacob Black stood behind his father's  wheelchair. Billy's face was impassive as stone as Edward parked against the curb. Jacob  stared down, looking at Bella and hardly paying any attention to us. 

Edward's low voice was furious. "This is crossing the line."

"He came to warn Charlie?" I guessed, more horrified than angry.  Edward just nodded, answering Billy's gaze through the rain with narrowed eyes.  I felt weak with relief that Charlie wasn't home yet.

"Let me deal with this," I suggested. Edward's black glare made me anxious.

To my surprise, he agreed. "That's probably best. Be careful, though. The child has no idea."

I bridled a little at the word child. "Jacob is not that much younger than I am," I reminded him.

He looked at me then, his anger abruptly fading. "Oh, I know," he assured me with a grin.  I sighed and got off the motorcycle. 

"Get them inside," he instructed, "so I can leave. I'll be back around dusk."

"You don't have to leave," I said wistfully.

He smiled at my glum expression. "Actually, I do. After you get rid of them" — he threw a dark glance in Billy Blacks' direction — "you still have to prepare Charlie to meet your new boyfriend." He grinned  widely, showing all of his teeth.

I groaned. "Thanks a lot."

He smiled the crooked smile that I loved. "I'll be back soon," he promised. His eyes flickered back to the porch, and then he leaned in to swiftly kiss me just under the edge of my jaw. My heart lurched  frantically, and I, too, glanced toward the porch. Billy's face was no longer impassive, and his hands  clutched at the armrests of his chair.

"Soon," I stressed as I handed him the helmet.  I could feel his eyes on my back as I half-ran through the light sprinkle toward the porch.

"Hey, Billy. Hi, Jacob." I greeted them as cheerfully as I could manage. "What brings you guys up today?” 

"Hello Beau," Billy said in a subdued tone. His black eyes were piercing. "I just wanted to bring this up."  He indicated a brown paper sack resting in his lap.

"Thanks," I said, though I had no idea what it could be. "Why are we standing in the rain?"

Bella looked up then, she had been too consumed by Jacob to notice. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m so rude!” She turned to get the handle.  I pretended to be oblivious to his intense scrutiny as I stood waiting for Bella to open the door and waved them in ahead of me.

"Here, let me take that," I offered, turning to shut the door. I allowed myself one last glance at Edward. He was waiting, perfectly still, his eyes solemn.

"You'll want to put it in the fridge," Billy noted as he handed me the package. "It's some of Harry  Clearwater's homemade fish fry — Charlie's favorite. The fridge keeps it drier." He shrugged.

"Thanks," I repeated, but with feeling this time. "I was running out of new ways to fix fish, and he's bound to bring home more tonight."

"Fishing again?" Billy asked with a subtle gleam in his eye. "Down at the usual spot? Maybe I'll run by  and see him."

"No," I quickly lied, my face going hard. "He was headed someplace new… but I have no idea where."  He took in my changed expression, and it made him thoughtful.

"Jake," he said, still appraising me. "Why don't you go get that new picture of Rebecca out of the car? I'll leave that for Charlie, too."

“I’ll go help you!” Bella said too quickly and too loud. 

"Where is it?" Jacob asked, his voice matching hers. I glanced at him, but he was staring at Bella.

"I think I saw it in the trunk," Billy said. "You may have to dig for it."  Jacob and Bella headed back out into the rain. Though I’m sure neither of them minded to privacy.  Billy and I faced each other in silence. After a few seconds, the quiet started to feel awkward, so I turned and headed to the kitchen. I could hear his wet wheels squeak against the linoleum as he followed.  I shoved the bag onto the crowded top shelf of the fridge, and spun around to confront him. His deeply  lined face was unreadable.

"Charlie won't be back for a long time." My voice was almost rude.  He nodded in agreement, but said nothing.

"Thanks again for the fish fry," I hinted.  He continued nodding. I sighed and folded my arms across my chest.

He seemed to sense that I had given up on small talk. "Beau," he said, and then he hesitated.  I waited.

"Beau," he said again, "Charlie is one of my best friends."

"Yes."

He spoke each word carefully in his rumbling voice. "I noticed you've been spending time with one of the Cullens."

"Yes," I repeated curtly.

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe it's none of my business, but I don't think that is such a good idea."

"You're right," I agreed. "It is none of your business."

He raised his graying eyebrows at my tone. "You probably don't know this, but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation."

"Actually, I did know that," I informed him in a hard voice. This surprised him. "But that reputation  couldn't be deserved, could it? Because the Cullens never set foot on the reservation, do they?" I could see that my less than subtle reminder of the agreement that both bound and protected his tribe pulled him up short.

"That's true," he acceded, his eyes guarded. "You seem… well informed about the Cullens. More  informed than I expected."

I stared him down. "Maybe even better informed than you are."

He pursed his thick lips as he considered that. "Maybe." he allowed, but his eyes were shrewd. "Is  Charlie as well informed?"

He had found the weak chink in my armor.

"Charlie likes the Cullens a lot," I hedged. He clearly understood my evasion. His expression was  unhappy, but unsurprised.

“And Bella? I have to think of her now too.” How dare he bring her into this. I had protected Bella since I could walk.  _ “  _ **_I_ ** _ have to think of her now.” _ He had emphasized as if she were his. I scowled. 

"It's not my business," he said. "But it may be Charlie's…and Bella’s "

"Though it would be my business, again, whether or not I think that it's Their business, right?"  I wondered if he even understood my confused question as I struggled not to say anything compromising.  But he seemed to. He thought about it while the rain picked up against the roof, the only sound breaking  the silence.

"Yes," he finally surrendered. "I guess that's your business, too."

I sighed with relief. "Thanks, Billy."

"Just think about what you're doing, Beau," he urged.

"Okay," I agreed quickly.

He frowned. "What I meant to say was, don't do what you're doing."

I looked into his eyes, filled with nothing but concern for me, and there was nothing I could say.  Just then the front door banged loudly, and I jumped at the sound.

"There's no picture anywhere in that car." Jacob's breathless voice reached us before he did. The  shoulders of his shirt were stained with the rain, his hair dripping, when he rounded the corner. Bella’s face was flushed and they were holding hands. I doubted they had even tried to look for the picture. 

"Hmm," Billy grunted, suddenly detached, spinning his chair around to face his son. "I guess I left it at  home."

Jacob rolled his eyes dramatically. "Great."

"Well, Bella, tell Charlie" — Billy paused before continuing — "that we stopped by, I mean."

"I will," she said cheerfully.

Jacob was surprised. "Are we leaving already?"

"Charlie's gonna be out late," Billy explained as he rolled himself past Jacob.

"Oh." Jacob looked disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then, Bella."

"Absolutely,” she agreed.

"Take care," Billy warned me. I didn't answer.  Jacob helped his father out the door. I waved briefly, glancing swiftly toward my now-empty driveway, and then shut the door before they were gone.  I stood in the hallway for a minute, listening to the sound of their car as it backed out and drove away and Bella shout her goodbyes. I stayed where I was, waiting for the irritation and anxiety to subside. When the tension eventually faded a bit, I headed upstairs to change out of my damp clothes. 

“What did you say to Billy?” She sounded mad. 

“Nothing, why? Did he say something to you?” I panicked.

“No, it’s just they left suddenly that’s all.” She mistook my nervous response as anger. I immediately changed my tone. 

“Maybe he knew what you and Jacob were doing outside.” She blushed at that. 

“Still… I want everyone to get along… I really like Jacob and… if you didn’t like his family then…” 

“I think they are great, Bells.” She smiled. 

“Good.” I looked through my closet. 

“Where are you going?”

“Out with Edward, he’s going to come pick me up.”

“In front of Charlie?”

“In front of Charlie” I confirmed. Her eyes met mine,  _ this must be serious. _

“I’m afraid so.” I answered allowed. She smiled and turned to leave.  I tried on a couple of different tops, not sure what to expect tonight. As I concentrated on what was  coming, what had just passed became insignificant. Now that I was removed from Jasper's and Edward's influence, I began to make up for not being terrified before. I gave up quickly on choosing an outfit — throwing on the old Mariners hoodie and dry jeans — knowing I would be in my raincoat all night anyway. Besides, we were playing baseball, and while I wasn’t playing, I could at least play along. 

The phone rang and I sprinted downstairs to get it. There was only one voice I wanted to hear; anything else would be a disappointment. But I knew that if he wanted to talk to me, he'd probably just  materialize in my room.

"Hello?" I asked, breathless.

"Beau?" Jessica said.

"Oh, hey, Jess." I scrambled for a moment to come back down to reality. It felt like months rather than days since I'd spoken to Jess. "How was the dance?"

"It was so much fun!" Jessica gushed. Needing no more invitation than that, she launched into a  minute-by-minute account of the previous night. I mmm'd and ahh'd at the right places, but it wasn't easy to concentrate. Jessica, Mike, the dance, the school — they all seemed strangely irrelevant at the  moment. My eyes kept flashing to the window, trying to judge the degree of light behind the heavy  clouds.

"Did you hear what I said, Beau?" Jess asked, irritated.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, Mike kissed me! Can you believe it?"

"That's wonderful, Jess," I said.

"So what did you do yesterday?" Jessica challenged, still sounding bothered by my lack of attention. Or maybe she was upset because I hadn't asked for details.

"Nothing, really. I just hung around outside to enjoy the sun."

I heard Charlie's car in the gravel.

"Did you ever hear anything more from Edward Cullen?"  The front door slammed and I could hear Charlie banging around under the stairs, putting his tackle  away.

"Um." I hesitated, not sure what my story was anymore.

"Hi there, Bud!" Charlie called as he walked into the kitchen. I waved at him.

Jess heard his voice. "Oh, your dad's there. Never mind — we'll talk tomorrow. See you in Trig. Tell Bella to call me."

"See ya, Jess." I hung up the phone.

"Hey, Dad," I said. He was scrubbing his hands in the sink. "Where's the fish?"

"I put it out in the freezer." 

"I'll go grab a few pieces before they freeze — Billy dropped off some of Harry Clearwater's fish fry this afternoon." I worked to sound enthusiastic.

"He did?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite."

Charlie cleaned up while I got dinner ready. It didn't take long till we were sitting at the table, eating in  silence. Charlie was enjoying his food. Bella was telling him about a camping trip with the Blacks she was going to attend starting tomorrow. I was wondering desperately how to fulfill my assignment, struggling to think of a way to broach the subject.

"What did you do with yourself today?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Well, this afternoon I just hung out around the house…" Only the very recent part of this afternoon,  actually. I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but my stomach was hollow. "And this morning I was over at the Cullens'."  Charlie dropped his fork.

"Dr. Cullen's place?" he asked in astonishment. Bella choked slightly,  _ you didn’t tell me,  _ she glared. 

I pretended not to notice either reaction. "Yeah."

"What were you doing there?" He hadn't picked his fork back up.

"Well, I sort of have a date with Edward Cullen tonight, and he wanted to introduce me to his parents…Dad?"

It appeared that Charlie was having an aneurysm.

"Dad, are you all right?"

"You are going out with Edward Cullen?" he thundered.

Uh-oh. "I thought you liked the Cullens."

"He's…. too old for you," he ranted.

"We're both juniors," I corrected, though he was more right than he dreamed.

"Wait…" He paused. "Which one is Edwin?"

"Edward is the youngest, the one with the reddish brown hair." The beautiful one, the godlike one…

"Oh, well, that's" — he struggled — "better, I guess. I don't like the look of that big one. I'm sure he's a nice boy and all, but he looks too… mature for you. Is this Edwin your boyfriend?"

"It's Edward, Dad."

"Is he?"

"Sort of, I guess."

"You said last night that you weren't interested in any of the boys in town." But he picked up his fork  again, so I could see the worst was over.

"Well, Edward doesn't live in town, Dad."  He gave me a disparaging look as he chewed.

"And, anyways," I continued, "it's kind of at an early stage, you know. Don't embarrass me with all the boyfriend talk, okay?"

"When is he coming over?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Where is he taking you?"

I groaned loudly. "I hope you're getting the Spanish Inquisition out of your system now. We're going to  play baseball with his family."

His face puckered, and then he finally chuckled. "You're playing baseball?"

"Well, I'll probably watch most of the time."

"You must really like this guy," he observed suspiciously.  I sighed and rolled my eyes for his benefit.  I heard the roar of an engine pull up in front of the house. I jumped up and started cleaning my dishes.

"Leave the dishes, I can do them tonight.” Bella offered.

“I’ll do them,” Charlie interjected, “You two baby me too much."  The doorbell rang, and Charlie stalked off to answer it. I was half a step behind him.  I hadn't realized how hard it was pouring outside. Edward stood in the halo of the porch light, looking  like a male model in an advertisement for raincoats.

"Come on in, Edward."  I breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie got his name right.

"Thanks, Chief Swan," Edward said in a respectful voice.

"Go ahead and call me Charlie. Here, I'll take your jacket."

"Thanks, sir."

"Have a seat there, Edward."  I grimaced.  Edward sat down fluidly in the only chair, forcing me to sit next to Chief Swan on the sofa. I quickly shot him a dirty look. He winked behind Charlie's back.

"So I hear you're getting Beau to watch baseball." Only in Washington would the fact that it was raining buckets have no bearing at all on the playing of outdoor sports.

"Yes, sir, that's the plan." He didn't look surprised that I'd told my father the truth. He might have been  listening, though.

"Well, more power to you, I guess."  Charlie laughed, and Edward joined in.

"Okay." I stood up. "Enough humor at my expense. Let's go." I walked back to the hall and pulled on my jacket. They followed.

"Not too late, Bud."

"Don't worry, Charlie, I'll have him home early," Edward promised.

"You take care of him, all right?"  I groaned, but they ignored me.

"He’ll be safe with me, I promise, sir. I make him wear a helmet on his bike and everything.” 

“YOU HAVEN'T BEEN WEARING A HELMET!” If I thought Charlie’s was having an aneurysm earlier I knew he was having one now. 

“What he meant was he reminds me to use caution, something I already do, right Edward?” 

“Absolutely.” Charlie couldn't doubt Edward's sincerity, it rang in every word. Bella finally came out from the kitchen. 

“Beau…” I looked at her,  _ what is it?  _ I asked by furrowing my brow. She motioned next closer. “I have a bad feeling.” Of course she did, Edward was a vampire after all. I laughed at the thought. 

“I’m serious!” I bumped her with my elbow. 

“I’ll be fine.” She didn’t look convinced. I tapped the back of her hand with my finger. She looked over me at Edward. 

“Hey, I promise. It’s just baseball.” I turned from her “what’s the worst that could happen.” As I said it I tripped over my own feet, falling into Charlie. I saw Edward’s mouth twitch.  I stalked out. They all laughed, and Edward followed me.  I stopped dead on the porch. There, behind the truck, was a monster Jeep. Its tires were higher than my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and tail-lights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.  Charlie let out a low whistle.

"Wear your seat belts," he choked out.

Edward followed me around to my side and opened the door. I gauged the distance to the seat and  prepared to jump for it. He sighed, and then lifted me in with one hand. I hoped Charlie didn't notice.  As he went around to the driver's side, at a normal, human pace, I tried to put on my seat belt. But there were too many buckles.

"What's all this?" I asked when he opened the door.

"It's an off-roading harness."

"Uh-oh."  I tried to find the right places for all the buckles to fit, but it wasn't going too quickly. He sighed again and reached over to help me. I was glad that the rain was too heavy to see Charlie clearly on the porch.  That meant he couldn't see how Edward's hands lingered at my neck, brushed along my collarbones. I gave up trying to help him and focused on not hyperventilating.  Edward turned the key and the engine roared to life. We pulled away from the house.

"This is a… um… big Jeep you have."

"It's Emmett's. I didn't think you'd want to run the whole way."

"Where do you keep this thing?"

"We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage."

"Aren't you going to put on your seat belt?"  He threw me a disbelieving look.  Then something sunk in.

"Run the whole way? As in, we're still going to run part of the way?" My voice edged up a few octaves.

He grinned tightly. "You're not going to run. As you just proved, you can barely walk.”

"I'm going to be sick."

"Keep your eyes closed, you'll be fine."  I bit my lip, fighting the panic.  He leaned over to kiss the top of my head, and then groaned. I looked at him, puzzled.

"You smell so good in the rain," he explained.

"In a good way, or in a bad way?" I asked cautiously.

He sighed. "Both, always both."  I don't know how he found his way in the gloom and downpour, but he somehow found a side road that was less of a road and more of a mountain path. For a long while conversation was impossible, because I was bouncing up and down on the seat like a jackhammer. He seemed to enjoy the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way.  And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep.  The rain was a mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky brighter through the clouds.

"Sorry, Beau, we have to go on foot from here."

"You know what? I'll just wait here."

"What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning."

"I haven't forgotten the last time yet." Could it have been only yesterday?  He was around to my side of the car in a blur. He started unbuckling me.

"I'll get those, you go on ahead," I protested.

"Hmmm…" he mused as he quickly finished. "It seems I'm going to have to tamper with your memory."  Before I could react, he pulled me from the Jeep and set my feet on the ground. It was barely misting  now; Alice was going to be right.

"Tamper with my memory?" I asked nervously.

"Something like that." He was watching me intently, carefully, but there was humor deep in his eyes.  He placed his hands against the Jeep on either side of my head and leaned forward, forcing me to press back against the door. He leaned in even closer, his face inches from mine. I had no room to escape.

"Now," he breathed, and just his smell disturbed my thought processes, "what exactly are you worrying about?"

"Well, um, hitting a tree —" I gulped "— and dying. And then getting sick."  He fought back a smile. Then he bent his head down and touched his cold lips softly to the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Are you still worried now?" he murmured against my skin.

"Yes." I struggled to concentrate. "About hitting trees and getting sick."  His nose drew a line up the skin of my throat to the point of my chin. His cold breath tickled my skin.

"And now?" His lips whispered against my jaw.

"Trees," I gasped. "Motion sickness."

He lifted his face to kiss my eyelids. "Beau, you don't really think I would hit a tree, do you?"

"No, but I might." There was no confidence in my voice. He smelled an easy victory.  He kissed slowly down my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth.

"Would I let a tree hurt you?" His lips barely brushed against my trembling lower lip.

"No," I breathed. I knew there was a second part to my brilliant defense, but I couldn't quite call it back.

"You see," he said, his lips moving against mine. "There's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

"No," I sighed, giving up.  Then he took my face in his hands almost roughly, and kissed me in earnest, his unyielding lips moving  against mine.  There really was no excuse for my behavior. Obviously I knew better by now. And yet I couldn't seem to stop from reacting exactly as I had the first time. Instead of keeping safely motionless, my hands reached out and grabbed his belt loops pulling our hips together, and I was suddenly welded to his stone figure. I sighed, and my lips parted.  He staggered back, breaking my grip effortlessly.

"Damn it, Beau!" he broke off, gasping. "You'll be the death of me, I swear you will."  I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for support.

"You're indestructible," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

"I might have believed that before I met you. Now let's get out of here before I do something really stupid," he growled.  He threw me across his back as he had before, and I could see the extra effort it took for him to be as  gentle as he was. I locked my legs around his waist and secured my arms in a choke hold around his  neck.

"Don't forget to close your eyes," he warned severely.  I quickly tucked my face into his shoulder blade, under my own arm, and squeezed my eyes shut.  And I could hardly tell we were moving. I could feel him gliding along beneath me, but he could have  been strolling down the sidewalk, the movement was so smooth. I was tempted to peek, just to see if he was really flying through the forest like before, but I resisted. It wasn't worth that awful dizziness. I  contented myself with listening to his breath come and go evenly.  I wasn't quite sure we had stopped until he reached back and touched my hair.

"It's over, Beau."  I dared to open my eyes, and, sure enough, we were at a standstill. I stiffly unlocked my stranglehold on his body and slipped to the ground, landing on my backside.

"Oh!" I huffed as I hit the wet ground.  He stared at me incredulously, evidently not sure whether he was still too mad to find me funny. But my bewildered expression pushed him over the edge, and he broke into a roar of laughter.  I picked myself up, ignoring him as I brushed the mud and bracken off the back of my jacket. That only made him laugh harder. Annoyed, I began to stride off into the forest.  I felt his arm around my waist.

"Where are you going, Beau?"

"To watch a baseball game. You don't seem to be interested in playing anymore, but I'm sure the others will have fun without you."

"You're going the wrong way."  I turned around without looking at him, and stalked off in the opposite direction. He caught me again.

"Don't be mad, I couldn't help myself. You should have seen your face." He chuckled before he could  stop himself.

"Oh, you're the only one who's allowed to get mad?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I wasn't mad at you."

"'Beau, you'll be the death of me'?" I quoted sourly.

"That was simply a statement of fact."  I tried to turn away from him again, but he held me fast.

"You were mad," I insisted.

"Yes."

"But you just said —"

"That I wasn't mad at you. Can't you see that, Beau?" He was suddenly intense, all trace of teasing gone.

"Don't you understand?"

"See what?" I demanded, confused by his sudden mood swing as much as his words.

"I'm never angry with you — how could I be? Brave, trusting… warm as you are."

"Then why?" I whispered, remembering the black moods that pulled him away from me, that I'd always interpreted as well-justified frustration — frustration at my weakness, my slowness, my unruly human reactions…

He put his hands carefully on both sides of my face. "I infuriate myself," he said gently. "The way I can't seem to keep from putting you in danger. My very existence puts you at risk.”

“Then be mad at you and stop treating me like that. Your mood swings are worse than your running.” 

“You’re right. I'm sorry. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger, I should be able to —"

I placed my hand over his mouth. "Don't."  He took my hand, moving it from his lips, but holding it to his face.

"I love you," he said. "It's a poor excuse for what I'm doing, but it's still true."  It was the first time he'd said he loved me — in so many words. He might not realize it, but I certainly  did.

"Now, please try to behave yourself," he continued, and he bent to softly brush his lips against mine.  I held properly still. Then I sighed.

"You promised Chief Swan that you would have me home early, remember? We'd better get going."

"Yes, sir."  He smiled wistfully and released all of me but one hand. He led me a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a massive hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.  I could see the others all there; Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie, sitting on a bare outcropping of rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred yards away. Much farther out I could see Jasper and Alice, at least a quarter of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and forth, but I never saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they really be that far apart?  When we came into view, the three on the rocks rose.  Esme started toward us. Emmett followed after a long look at Rosalie's back; Rosalie had risen gracefully and strode off toward the field without a glance in our direction. My stomach quivered uneasily in response.

"Was that you we heard, Edward?" Esme asked as she approached.

"It sounded like a bear choking," Emmett clarified.

I smiled hesitantly at Esme. "That was him."

"Beau was being unintentionally funny," Edward explained, quickly settling the score.  Alice had left her position and was running, or dancing, toward us. She hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet.

"It's time," she announced.  As soon as she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond us, and then crashed westward toward town.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Emmett said with easy familiarity, winking at me.

"Let's go." Alice reached for Emmett's hand and they darted toward the oversized field; she ran like a  gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and just as fast — yet Emmett could never be compared to a gazelle.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Edward asked, his eyes eager, bright.

I tried to sound appropriately enthusiastic. "Go team!"

He snickered and, after mussing my hair, bounded off after the other two. His run was more aggressive, a cheetah rather than a gazelle, and he quickly overtook them. The grace and power took my breath away. I stared open mouthed after him. 

“I found a great spot for your painting, in the drawing room.” Esme smiled at me. 

“I’m glad you liked it, it’s not much.” 

“It’s everything.” I felt my cheeks get red at her attention and compassion. 

"Shall we go down?" Esme asked in her soft, melodic voice, and I realized I was staring at her. I quickly reassembled my expression and nodded. Esme kept a few feet between us, and I  wondered if she was still being careful not to frighten me. She matched her stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.

"You don't play with them?" I asked shyly.

"No, I prefer to referee — I like keeping them honest," she explained.

"Do they like to cheat, then?"

"Oh yes — you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don't, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves."

"Surely not, you’re a great mom," I felt defensive.

She laughed. "Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over my mothering instincts — did Edward tell you I had lost a child?"

"No," I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime she was remembering.

"Yes, my first and only baby. He died just a few days after he was born, the poor tiny thing," she sighed.  "It broke my heart — that's why I jumped off the cliff, you know," she added matter-of-factly.

"Edward just said you f-fell," I stammered.

"Always the gentleman." She smiled. "Edward was the first of my new sons. I've always thought of him that way, even though he's older than I, in one way at least." She smiled at me warmly. "That's why I'm so happy that he's found you, dear." The endearment sounded very natural on her lips. "He's been the odd man out for far too long; it's hurt me to see him alone."

"You don't mind, then?" I asked, hesitant again. "That I'm… all wrong for him?"

"No." She was thoughtful. "You're what he wants. It will work out, somehow," she said, though her  forehead creased with worry. Every word she said felt like every word I had ever longed to hear. I closed the space between us very slowly. 

“I think,” I said without thinking at all, “I would’ve liked it if you had been my mom.” She looked surprised, then gentle. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. 

“I would’ve cherished you always.” She said, I got the feeling Edward might have shared my past with her. 

Another peal of thunder began.  Esme stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed  teams. Edward was far out in left field, Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.  Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible. Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves.

"All right," Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would hear, as far out as he was.

"Batter up."  Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating  windup. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand  flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper's hand.

"Was that a strike?" I whispered to Esme.

"If they don't hit it, it's a strike," she told me.  Jasper hurled the ball back to Alice's waiting hand. She permitted herself a brief grin. And then her hand spun out again.  This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact  was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains — I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm.  The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.

"Home run," I murmured.

"Wait," Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward was missing.

"Out!" Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edward sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide grin visible even to me.

"Emmett hits the hardest," Esme explained, "but Edward runs the fastest."  The inning continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.  I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jasper, trying to avoid  Edward's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow unscathed.

"Safe," Esme called in a calm voice.

Emmett's team was up by one — Rosalie managed to flit around the bases after tagging up on one of  Emmett's long flies — when Edward caught the third out. He sprinted to my side, sparkling with  excitement.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"One thing's for sure, I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again."

"And it sounds like you did so much of that before," he laughed.

"I am a little disappointed," I teased.

"Why?" he asked, puzzled.

"Well, it would be nice if I could find just one thing you didn't do better than everyone else on the planet."  He flashed his special crooked smile, leaving me breathless.

"I'm up," he said, heading for the plate.

He played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Rosalie's always-ready hand in the  outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked one so far out of the field — with a boom that hurt my ears — that he and Edward both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives.  The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like any street  ballplayers as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder no rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted.  Carlisle was up to bat, Edward catching, when Alice suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edward, as  usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in an instant. He was at my side before the others could ask Alice what was wrong.

"Alice?" Esme's voice was tense.She grabbed my hand protectively.

"I didn't see — I couldn't tell," she whispered.

All the others were gathered by this time.

"What is it, Alice?" Carlisle asked with the calm voice of authority.

"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," she

murmured.

Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. "What changed?" he asked.

"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," she said, contrite, as if she felt responsible for  whatever had frightened her.  Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.

"How soon?" Carlisle said, turning toward Edward.

A look of intense concentration crossed his face.

"Less than five minutes. They're running — they want to play." He scowled.

"Can you make it?" Carlisle asked him, his eyes flicking toward me again.

"No, not carrying —" He cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and  start hunting."

"How many?" Emmett asked Alice.

"Three," she answered tersely.

"Three!" he scoffed. "Let them come." The steel bands of muscle flexed along his massive arms.

For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carlisle deliberated. Only Emmett seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at Carlisle's face with anxious eyes.

"Let's just continue the game," Carlisle finally decided. His voice was cool and level. "Alice said they  were simply curious."  All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn't hear what Esme now asked Edward with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of his head and the look of relief on her face.

"You catch, Esme," he said. "I'll call it now." And he planted himself in front of me.

The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with their sharp eyes. Alice and  Esme seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.

"Put your hood up" Edward said in a low, even voice.  I obediently slid hood up and pulled it down around me.

I stated the obvious. "The others are coming now."

"Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please." He hid the stress in his voice well, but I could hear it. He pulled my hood forward, around my face.


	18. Visitors

They emerged one by one from the forest edge, ranging a dozen meters apart. The first male into the  clearing fell back immediately, allowing the other male to take the front, orienting himself around the tall, dark-haired man in a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The third was a woman; from this distance, all I could see of her was that her hair was a startling shade of red.  They closed ranks before they continued cautiously toward Edward's family, exhibiting the natural  respect of a troop of predators as it encounters a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind.  As they approached, I could see how different they were from the Cullens. Their walk was catlike, a gait that seemed constantly on the edge of shifting into a crouch. They dressed in the ordinary gear of  backpackers: jeans and casual button-down shirts in heavy, weatherproof fabrics. The clothes were  frayed, though, with wear, and they were barefoot. Both men had cropped hair, but the woman's brilliant orange hair was filled with leaves and debris from the woods.  Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of Carlisle, who, flanked by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to meet them. Without any seeming communication between them, they each straightened into a more casual, erect bearing.  The man in front was easily the most beautiful, his skin olive-toned beneath the typical pallor, his hair a  glossy black. He was of a medium build, hard-muscled, of course, but nothing next to Emmett's brawn.

He smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash of gleaming white teeth. The woman was wilder, her eyes shifting restlessly between the men facing her, and the loose grouping around me, her chaotic hair quivering in the slight breeze. Her posture was distinctly feline. The second male hovered unobtrusively behind them, slighter than the leader, his light brown hair and regular features both nondescript. His eyes, though completely still, somehow seemed the most vigilant.  Their eyes were different, too. Not the gold or black I had come to expect, but a deep burgundy color  that was disturbing and sinister.  The dark-haired man, still smiling, stepped toward Carlisle.

"We thought we heard a game," he said in a relaxed voice with the slightest of French accents. "I'm  Laurent, these are Victoria and James." He gestured to the vampires beside him.

"I'm Carlisle. This is my family, Emmett and Jasper, Rosalie, Esme and Alice, Edward and Beau." He  pointed us out in groups, deliberately not calling attention to individuals. I felt a shock when he said my  name.

"Do you have room for a few more players?" Laurent asked sociably.

Carlisle matched Laurent's friendly tone. "Actually, we were just finishing up. But we'd certainly be  interested another time. Are you planning to stay in the area for long?"

"We're headed north, in fact, but we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven't run into any company in a long time."

"No, this region is usually empty except for us and the occasional visitor, like yourselves."  The tense atmosphere had slowly subsided into a casual conversation; I guessed that Jasper was using his peculiar gift to control the situation.

"What's your hunting range?" Laurent casually inquired.

Carlisle ignored the assumption behind the inquiry. "The Olympic Range here, up and down the Coast  Ranges on occasion. We keep a permanent residence nearby. There's another permanent settlement like ours up near Denali."  Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly.

"Permanent? How do you manage that?" There was honest curiosity in his voice.

"Why don't you come back to our home with us and we can talk comfortably?" Carlisle invited. "It's a  rather long story."

James and Victoria exchanged a surprised look at the mention of the word "home," but Laurent  controlled his expression better.

"That sounds very interesting, and welcome." His smile was genial. "We've been on the hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven't had the chance to clean up in a while." His eyes moved appreciatively over Carlisle's refined appearance.

"Please don't take offense, but we'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from hunting in this immediate area.  We have to stay inconspicuous, you understand," Carlisle explained.

"Of course." Laurent nodded. "We certainly won't encroach on your territory. We just ate outside of  Seattle, anyway," he laughed. A shiver ran up my spine.

"We'll show you the way if you'd like to run with us — Emmett and Alice, you can go with Edward and Beau to get the Jeep," he casually added.

Three things seemed to happen simultaneously while Carlisle was speaking. My hair ruffled with the light breeze, Edward stiffened, and the second male, James, suddenly whipped his head around, scrutinizing me, his nostrils flaring.  A swift rigidity fell on all of them as James lurched one step forward into a crouch. Edward bared his  teeth, crouching in defense, a feral snarl ripping from his throat.  It was nothing like the playful sounds I'd heard from him this morning; it was the single most menacing  thing I had ever heard, and chills ran from the crown of my head to the back of my heels.

"What's this?" Laurent exclaimed in open surprise. Neither James nor Edward relaxed their aggressive poses. James feinted slightly to the side, and Edward shifted in response.

"He’s with us." Carlisle's firm rebuff was directed toward James. Laurent seemed to catch my scent less  powerfully than James, but awareness now dawned on his face.

"You brought a snack?" he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an involuntary step forward.  Edward snarled even more ferociously, harshly, his lip curling high above his glistening, bared teeth.  Laurent stepped back again.

"I said he’s with us," Carlisle corrected in a hard voice.

"But he’s human," Laurent protested. The words were not at all aggressive, merely astounded.

"Yes." Emmett was very much in evidence at Carlisle's side, his eyes on James. James slowly straightened out of his crouch, but his eyes never left me, his nostrils still wide. Edward stayed tensed like a lion in front of me.

When Laurent spoke, his tone was soothing — trying to defuse the sudden hostility. "It appears we have a lot to learn about each other."

"Indeed." Carlisle's voice was still cool.

"But we'd like to accept your invitation." His eyes flicked toward me and back to Carlisle. "And, of  course, we will not harm the human. We won't hunt in your range, as I said."

James glanced in disbelief and aggravation at Laurent and exchanged another brief look with Victoria,  whose eyes still flickered edgily from face to face.

Carlisle measured Laurent's open expression for a moment before he spoke. "We'll show you the way.  Jasper, Rosalie, Esme?" he called. They gathered together, blocking me from view as they converged.

“I think I’ll go with the Jeep.” Esme said lightly, lovingly. Carlisle looked at her with a hard expression but the group of intruders thought nothing of it. “Emmett why don’t you stay instead, I’m sure you have many stories to share, maybe they have fought bears too.” She laughed lightly. Laurent laughed too, the one called James seemed shocked. 

“Bears?!” What an interesting tale this will be.” Emmett did not look pleased but did as she asked. Carlisle looked slightly pained.  Alice was instantly at my side, and Emmett fell back slowly to the other group, his eyes locked on James as he went. 

"Let's go, Beau." Edward's voice was low and bleak.

This whole time I'd been rooted in place, terrified into absolute immobility. Edward had to grip my elbow and pull sharply to break my trance. Alice and Esme were close behind us, hiding me. I stumbled alongside Edward, still stunned with fear. I couldn't hear if the main group had left yet. Edward's impatience was almost tangible as we moved at human speed to the forest edge.  Once we were into the trees, Edward slung me over his back without breaking stride. I gripped as tightly as possible as he took off, the others close on his heels. I kept my head down, but my eyes, wide with fright, wouldn't close. They plunged through the now-black forest like wraiths. The sense of exhilaration that usually seemed to possess Edward as he ran was completely absent, replaced by a fury that consumed him and drove him still faster. Even with me on his back, the others trailed behind.  We reached the Jeep in an impossibly short time, and Edward barely slowed as he flung me in the  backseat.

"Strap him in," he ordered Esme, who slid in beside me.

“Don’t worry.” She whispered to me.  Alice was already in the front seat, and Edward was starting the engine. It roared to life and we swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road.  Edward was growling something too fast for me to understand, but it sounded a lot like a string of  profanities.  The jolting trip was much worse this time, and the darkness only made it more frightening. Alice both glared out the side window as Esme stroked my hair.  We hit the main road, and though our speed increased, I could see much better where we were going.  And we were headed south, away from Forks.

"Where are we going?" I asked.  No one answered. No one even looked at me.

"Dammit, Edward! Where are you taking me?"

"We have to get you away from here — far away — now." He didn't look back, his eyes on the road.  The speedometer read a hundred and five miles an hour.

"Turn around! You have to take me home!" I shouted. I struggled with the stupid harness, tearing at the straps.

"Esme," Edward said grimly.

And Esme secured me in a hug with one hand on my head. It felt loving, but also like a cage.

"No! Edward! No, you can't do this."

"I have to, Beau, now please be quiet."

"I won't! You have to take me back, I can’t leave Bella. And Charlie will call the FBI! They'll be all over your family — Carlisle and Everyone! They'll have to leave, to hide forever!"

"Calm down, Beau." His voice was cold. "We've been there before."

"Not over me, you don't! You're not ruining everything over me!" I struggled violently, with total futility.

Alice spoke for the first time. "Edward, pull over."  He flashed her a hard look, and then sped up.

"Edward, let's just talk this through."

"You don't understand," he roared in frustration. I'd never heard his voice so loud; it was deafening in the confines of the Jeep. The speedometer neared one hundred and fifteen. "He's a tracker, Alice, did you see that? He's a tracker!"  I felt Esme stiffen next to me, and I wondered at her reaction to the word. It meant something more to the three of them than it did to me; I wanted to understand, but there was no opening for me to ask.

"Pull over, Edward." Alice's tone was reasonable, but there was a ring of authority in it I'd never heard before.  The speedometer inched passed one-twenty.

"Do it, Edward."

"Listen to me, Alice. I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession — and he wants him, Alice —him, specifically. He begins the hunt tonight."

"He doesn't know where —"

He interrupted her. "How long do you think it will take him to cross the scent in town? His plan was  already set before the words were out of Laurent's mouth."

I gasped, knowing where my scent would lead. "Bella! You can't leave her there! I can't leave  Her!" I thrashed against the harness. Esme ran her hand smoothly along my face trying to calm me. 

"He’s right," Alice said.  The car slowed slightly.

"Let's just look at our options for a minute," Alice coaxed.  The car slowed again, more noticeably, and then suddenly we screeched to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. I flew against the harness, and then slammed back into the seat.

“Are you okay?!” Esme sounded worried. I nodded.

"There are no options," Edward hissed.

"I'm not leaving Bella" I yelled.  He ignored me completely.

"We have to take him back," Esme finally spoke.

"No." Edward was absolute.

"He's no match for us, Edward. Especially Emmett. He won't be able to touch him."

"He'll wait."

Esme’s loving voice sounded hard suddenly."Then we wait too.” 

"You didn't see — you don't understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he's unshakable. We'd have to kill him."

Esme didn't seem upset by the idea. "If that’s the only option."

"And the female. She's with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader will go with them, too."

"There are enough of us." Esme seemed resolved. She held me a bit tighter. 

"There's another option," Alice said quietly.

Edward turned on her in fury, his voice a blistering snarl. "There — is — no — other — option!"

Esme and I both stared at him in shock, but Alice seemed unsurprised. The silence lasted for a long

minute as Edward and Alice stared each other down.

I broke it. "Does anyone want to hear my plan?"

"No," Edward growled. Alice glared at him, finally provoked.

"Listen," I pleaded. "You take me back."

"No," he interrupted.

I glared at him and continued. "You take me back. I tell Bella I want to go home to Phoenix. I pack  my bags. I take the truck. We wait till this tracker is watching, and then we run. He'll follow us and leave Bella alone. Charlie won't call the FBI on your family. Then you can take me any damned place you want."  They stared at me, stunned.

"It's not a bad idea, really." Esme was one my side and I felt empowered.

“What about Bella? Do you think she will let you go?” He tried to unravel my plan.

“I’ll make her.” My voice broke a little.

"It might work — and we simply can't leave his family unprotected. You know that," Alice said.

Everyone looked at Edward.

"It's too dangerous — I don't want him within a hundred miles of Beau."

Esme was supremely confident. "Edward, he's not getting through us."

Alice thought for a minute. "I don't see him attacking. He'll try to wait for us to leave Beau alone."

"It won't take long for him to realize that's not going to happen."

"I demand that you take me home." I tried to sound firm.  Edward pressed his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please," I said in a much smaller voice.  He didn't look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded worn.

"You're leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell Charlie that you can't stand another  minute in Forks. Tell him whatever story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in the truck. I don't care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep."  The Jeep rumbled to life, and he spun us around, the tires squealing. The needle on the speedometer  started to race up the dial.

"Esme?" I asked, looking pointedly at her eyes.

"Yes dear?” I thought about our earlier conversation. 

“I liked being your son….. while it lasted.” 

“It’s not over yet.” She said. I leaned into her hug.  A few minutes passed in silence, other than the roar of the engine. Then Edward spoke again.

"This is how it's going to happen. When we get to the house, if the tracker is not there, I will walk Beau to the door. Then he has fifteen minutes." He glared at me in the rearview mirror. "Esme you take the outside of the house. Alice, you get the truck. I'll be inside as long as he is. After he is out, you two can take the Jeep home and tell Carlisle."

"No way," Esme broke in. "I'm not leaving."

"Think it through, Esme. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Until we know how far this is going to go, I'm with you."

Edward sighed. "If the tracker is there," he continued grimly, "we keep driving."

"We're going to make it there before him," Alice said confidently.  Edward seemed to accept that. Whatever his problem with Alice was, he didn't doubt her now.

"What are we going to do with the Jeep?" she asked.

His voice had a hard edge. "You're driving it home."

"No, I'm not," she said calmly.  The unintelligible stream of profanities started again.

"We can't all fit in the truck," I whispered.  Edward didn't appear to hear me.

"I think you should let me go alone," I said even more quietly.

He heard that.

"Beau, please just do this my way, just this once," he said between clenched teeth.

"Listen, Charlie's not an imbecile," I protested. "If you're not in town tomorrow, he's going to get  suspicious."

"That's irrelevant. We'll make sure he's safe, and that's all that matters."

"Then what about this tracker? He saw the way you acted tonight. He's going to think you're with me,  wherever you are."

Esme looked at me, she knew I was right. "Edward, listen to him," she urged in her gentle way. "I think he is right."

"Yes, he is," Alice agreed.

"I can't do that." Edward's voice was icy.

"Esme should stay, too," I continued. "He definitely noticed Esme switch groups." I felt she might be safer away from me. 

"What?" Esme turned on me.

"He saw how you felt about Beau," Alice agreed.

Edward stared at her incredulously. "You think I should let him go alone?"

"Of course not," Alice said. "Jasper and I will take him."

"I can't do that," Edward repeated, but this time there was a trace of defeat in his voice. The logic was working on him.

I tried to be persuasive. "Hang out here for a week —" I saw his expression in the mirror and amended"— a few days. Let Charlie and Bella see you haven't kidnapped me, and lead this James on a wild-goose chase.  Make sure he's completely off my trail. Then come and meet me. Take a roundabout route, of course,  and then Jasper and Alice can go home."

I could see him beginning to consider it.

"Meet you where?"

"Phoenix." Of course.

"No. He'll hear that's where you're going," he said impatiently.

"And you'll make it look like that's a ruse, obviously. He'll know that we'll know that he's listening.  He'll never believe I'm actually going where I say I am going."

"That’s very astute.” Esme commented. 

"And if that doesn't work?"

"There are several million people in Phoenix," I informed him.

"It's not that hard to find your old house.” 

“I won’t go there, it’s sold remember?” 

"Oh?" he inquired, a dangerous note in his voice.

"Beside, I'm quite old enough to get my own place."

"Edward, we'll be with him," Alice reminded him.

"What are you going to do in Phoenix?" he asked her scathingly.

"Stay indoors."

"I kind of like it." Esme was thinking about the logistics.

"Please Esme."

"Look, if we try to take resolve this while Beau is still around, there's a much better chance that someone  will get hurt — he’ll get hurt, or you will, trying to protect him. Now, if you were to get this tracker alone…" She trailed off. She was trying to feed into Edward’s anger.  The Jeep was crawling slowly along now as we drove into town. Despite my brave talk, I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up. I thought about Bella, alone in the house, and tried to be courageous.

"Beau." Edward's voice was very soft. Alice and Esme looked out their windows. "If you let anything happen to yourself— anything at all — I'm holding you personally responsible. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," I gulped.

He turned to Alice.

"Can Jasper handle this?"

"Give him some credit, Edward. He's been doing very, very well, all things considered."

"Can you handle this?" he asked.  And graceful little Alice pulled back her lips in a horrific grimace and let loose with a guttural snarl that had me cowering against the seat in terror.

Edward smiled at her. "But keep your opinions to yourself," he muttered suddenly.


	19. Goodbyes

Bella was waiting up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a way to make them let me go. This wasn't going to be pleasant.  Edward pulled up slowly, staying well back from the truck. All three of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening to every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching every scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I sat, motionless, as they continued to listen.

"He's not here," Edward said tensely. "Let's go." Esme reached over to help me get out of the harness.

"Don't worry, Beau," she said in a low but cheerful voice, "we'll take care of things here quickly."

I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I looked at Esme. I barely knew her, and yet, somehow, not  knowing when I would see her again after tonight was anguishing. I knew this was just a faint taste of the goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made the tears begin to spill.

"Alice, Esme." Edward's voice was a command. They slithered soundlessly into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edward opened my door and took my hand, then drew me into the protecting enclosure of his arm. He walked me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night.

"Fifteen minutes," he warned under his breath.

"I can do this." I sniffled. I was still waiting for an inspiration.  I stopped on the porch and took hold of his face in my hands. I looked fiercely into his eyes.

"I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no matter what happens now."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Beau," he said just as fiercely.

"Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Bella safe for me. She’s not going to like me very much after this, and I want to have the chance to apologize later."

"Get inside, Beau. We have to hurry." His voice was urgent.

"One more thing," I whispered passionately. He was leaning in, and so all I had to do was stretch up on my toes to kiss his surprised, frozen lips with as much force as I was capable of. Then I turned and kicked the door open.

"Go away, Edward!" I yelled at him, running inside and slamming the door shut in his still-shocked face.

"Beau?" Bella had been hovering in the living room, and he was already on his feet.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed at her through my tears, which were flowing relentlessly now. I ran up the stairs to my room, throwing the door shut and locking it. I ran to my bed, flinging myself on the floor to retrieve my book bag. I reached swiftly between the mattress and box spring to grab the knotted old sock that contained my secret cash hoard.

Bella was pounding on my door.

"Beau, are you okay? What's going on?" Her voice was frightened.

"I'm going back to Phoenix," I shouted, my voice breaking in the perfect spot.

"Did he hurt you?" Her tone edged toward anger.

"No!" I shrieked a few octaves higher. I turned to my dresser, and Edward was already there, silently  yanking out armfuls of random clothes, which he proceeded to throw to me.

"Did he break up with you?" Bella was perplexed.

"No!" I yelled, slightly more breathless as I shoved everything into the bag. Edward threw another  drawer's contents at me. The bag was pretty much full now.

"What happened, Beau?" Bella shouted through the door, pounding again.

"I broke up with him!" I shouted back, jerking on the zipper of my bad. Edward's capable hands pushed mine away and zipped it smoothly. He slid it gently on my back. 

"I'll be in the truck — go!" he whispered, and pushed me toward the door. He vanished out the window.  I unlocked the door and pushed past Bella roughly, struggling with my heavy bag as I ran down the  stairs.

"What happened?" She yelled. He was right behind me. "I thought you liked him." 

She caught my elbow in the kitchen. Though she was still bewildered, her grip was firm.  She spun me around to look at him, and I could see in her face that he had no intention of letting me leave.  I could think of only one way to escape, and it involved hurting her so much that I hated myself for even considering it. But I had no time, and I had to keep her safe.  I glared up at my Bella, fresh tears in my eyes for what I was about to do.

"I do like him — that's the problem. I won’t be his burden. I was mom’s and she never let me forget it. I can't do this anymore! I can't sit here and pretend nothing ever happened! You knew what she was like! She sat there and drank herself to death in front of us — and you want to play family and pretend it never happened?!” 

Her hand dropped from my arm like I'd electrocuted it. I stared into her big eyes and suddenly had a new idea. It all hinged on whether or not Alice would warn Edward. Edward said something about her having her own opinions, I hoped they were closer to mine. I looked at Bella and conveyed a message harder then I ever had before. 

_ I’m in trouble, play along.  _ Her eyes widened.

_ What happened _

_ I can’t explain, please just keep fighting  _

“Beau, you can't leave now. It's nighttime," she yelled.

_ Good, thank you.  _

_ What now? _

_ Give me both sets of keys. _

I never broke eye contact. "I'll sleep in the truck if I get tired."

“But you don’t drive.” She handed me the keys. 

“We both know why don’t we? How many car accidents did she get into after drinking?”

"Just wait until later," she pled, still confused.  “Charlie will be back by then." This completely derailed me. 

“What?"

Bella continued eagerly, almost babbling as I hesitated. "He got called into work.” 

_ Go to Jacobs. Go to Jacobs.  _ She nodded.  I shook my head, trying to reassemble my now-confused thoughts. Every passing second put Her in more danger.

"He will understand," I muttered, turning the knob. She stood too close, and tapped the back of my hand, I tapped hers.

_ Follow me outside, try to stop me _

“I’m tired of pretending this is a real family!"  I said the words as angrily as I could manage, and I threw the door open. Bella ran out after me and blocked the truck. 

“I won’t let you go!” The plan worked perfectly. Edward was trapped inside the truck behind Bella. 

_ Thank you.  _ She smiled and nodded. The next part happened in a single second. I jumped on my motorcycle and peeled out. I could hear the others running behind me. Edward couldn’t yell for me without the tracker hearing. 

I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I just kept  Accelerating. The road disappeared underneath. I was counting on my frailty to be my savior for once. I had no helmet and no jacket. If they tried stopping the bike while I was going too fast they would kill me. 

Edward flashed next to me. 

"Pull over," he growled lowly. 

My hands gripped the throttle. I once again pushed the bike forward.  I knew I couldn’t outrun him, I just had to keep going long enough to think of the next part of the plan, something my adrenaline was making impossible. 

My plan suddenly didn't feel so brilliant anymore. I started to panic. I remembered the meadow.  **As if you could outrun me. As if you could fight me off.** He was right. The only strength I had was that he couldn’t read my mind, or Bells. I hope she went to Jacobs like I told her. JACOB! I saw the exit to the reservation and shifted direction so suddenly I thought the bike would spin out completely. It only took Edward a minute to register my change in course. 

“Beau, don’t.” I crossed the reservation line. Esme and Edward stopped just short, I wasn’t sure where Alice had gone. I slowed and looked back. 

“Forgive me.” I whispered, but I knew he could hear me. Just then a giant figure ran across the road and towards the Cullens growling. It looked like a giant wolf, I blamed the adrenaline. I revved the bike and headed deeper into quiellette lands. It was raining when I knocked on the door. 

“Billy,” I said breathless “I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, hold on tight little coward, this is where I jump the tracks!


	20. A New Plan

Billy sat deep in thought. I had spoken so fast I wasn’t sure if he was thinking about what I said or still trying to decipher it. There was a soft knock at the door and Bella walked in.

“Bella!” She ran and hugged me.

“Beau what is going on?” She looked so confused and scared. I looked at Billy not sure what to say. 

“You told her to come here?” Billy spoke at last to me. He looked surprised. 

“I know she will be safe here, I know you can keep her safe.” Billy nodded. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them he spoke with the authority of his tribe. 

“Bella, you are welcome to remain her as long as you like.” I let out a breath. He looked at me.  “Unfortunately Beau you have made your decision. Your choices have and will put everyone at risk. You must leave our lands at once. I cannot let my people bear the weight of the risks you are taking.” Bella was speechless. 

“I understand Billy, please take care of her.” I turned to Bella, what a strange conversation this must sound like to her. Just then Jacob walked in the door. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” He grabbed Bella’s hand. She stayed looking at me. He read the tone of the room. “What’s going on?” His voice Switched to serious. 

“There is much we need to talk about.” Billy said flatly. I had no words. I hugged Bella tightly and walked out the door. I got on my bike. Bella seemed to break from her shock and ran out after me. 

“Beau!” I looked back at her. 

“It’s okay Bella.” 

“I won’t let you go. Whatever is happening we can get through it together, just like always.” 

“Not this Time Bells.” Jacob stepped out behind her. We exchanged a meaningful glance. 

“Beau don’t leave me….” her voice was barely a whisper. It was so strange to have to protect her by leaving. Could I do this? 

“It’s just for a little while.” I lied.

“No!” She stood with my front tire between her legs. 

“Go south on the Beach Road, it’ll protect you a little while longer.” Billy said softly, “but Beau, once you leave the reservation, you can never step foot here again.” I nodded. 

“You’re not doing this.” 

_ I love you. _

“I love you too.” She thought I moved to stand up. 

“JACOB GRAB HER.” Jacob yanked Bella From in front of the bike. I peeled out in their gravel driveway. Jacob Held Bella on the ground while she screamed to be released. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I turned onto the beach road. I drove in silence with the water and stars. I needed to make a new plan. 

I paced the rock beach and listened to the gentle waves. I had hoped Billy would let us both stay, at least Until I had time to think things all the way through. I knew I couldn’t keep making plans in small segments. How was I supposed to keep everyone safe and outrun The tracker forever? I shook my head, outrunning James was off the table. I thought back to Edwards' face when I crossed into the reservation. He looked shattered. I felt like throwing up knowing I had done that to him. I loved him. I always protected the people I loved, even when it hurt them. How could I possibly make a decision. I sat down on the rocks and cried. When this was all over I vowed never to leave Edward again. Except I realized that eventually I would. I was human, and mortality would separate us. I couldn’t stand the idea. I cried harder. Then, I stopped. I made the decision and I would follow through. I got on my bike. My phone buzzed lightly. 

‘It will work. I will meet you. A’ 

I turned it off and pushed it into my pocket. The engine roared to life. I understood why Billy exiled me from the reservation. He had foresight to see that I would make this choice.  I sped down the road. It seemed like time was moving in slow motion. I heard a howl as I approached the limits of the reservation. Standing just on the other side was Alice, she motioned for me to stop just short. 

“If you go back to Billy’s now he will take you.” I shook my head. 

"Why did you let me go? At the house you must've seen..."

"I love my brother, but Edward can't be persuaded, even when things are cemented." I wondered what she meant by her cryptic remark but I didn't have time to ask for more details.

“Where is he?”

“Hunting James. I told him I would run the perimeter and wait for you.”

“Does he know I’m here now?”

“No. He’s too far away to read my mind. He’s expecting a call.” I waited for her to grab the phone. “This only works if Edward doesn’t know the whole plan.” 

“Oh.” I wanted to see Edward. To apologize and talk about the events about to unfold. 

“This won’t be easy Beau.” She sounded guarded. 

“I know.” 

“When I call Edward he will change direction and it won’t take long for James to know and follow. But when Edward gets close enough to read my mind…. he won’t let the plan happen.” 

“So what do we do?” 

“We have to make James move faster, get him excited by the hunt….” 

“How do we do that.” 

“Well… blood for one.” I gulped loudly. 

“It wouldn’t take much” She assures me. I turned the bike engine back on. If I thought too much about this I wouldn’t be able to commit. 

“When I call Edward we will only have 10 minutes. Everything has to go exactly as you decided.” 

“Okay.” I shook out my arms and grabbed the handles. Alice grabbed the cellphone. At the same time I floored it across the line Alice hit dial. 

Ten minutes _.  _

My blood beat loud in my ears drowning out the engine. Alice ran beside me.  _ I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.  _ I pushed on and waited for Alice’s signal. My mind swam. Would Edward ever forgive me? Surely. But what if he didn’t? I would have to live with that. If he was safe, and Bella was safe, and the Cullens were safe. I could live with that, I would force myself too. The whole mess was my fault and I would fix it. And if Edward did forgive me, I would spend everyday making up for the pain I had caused him. If it were possible. And Esme, I wondered if she would still want me to be her son. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan…

“Beau!” I shook my head and fixed my resolve. I had to be certain. I gained more speed but then slowed down just a bit.  _ What if.... _

“Do it Beau!” With Alice’s confirmation I hit the brakes and threw the bike sideways. It might be overkill but I wanted the plan to work, and we needed blood. I screamed as I felt the road rip through my pants and then my skin. My shoulder hit half a second later, I felt it crunch. The bike slid away from me. I didn’t even have the focus to chastise myself for such an idiotic idea. The pain ripped through my body. I finally stopped in the ditch. The cool grass did little to ease the burning. 

“Keep screaming!” Alice commanded as if I was doing so voluntarily. She stood off from me, I could see her struggling. My eyes closed as I cried out.  _ Please let this work.  _ I heard a wild growl. I opened my eyes to see James lunging toward me. I closed them tightly. I thought of Edward. I wanted his face to be the last image. Just when I thought James would break my neck I heard a loud crash, like the top cracking off a volcano. I tried to sit up, pain split through me and I cried out. 

“Don’t move.” Esme Spoke softly. I looked up to see her and looked over to see Edward and Emmett tangling with James. 

“Edward.” 

“He’s here, he’s here.” Esme stroked my hair. Edward was here. The pain ripped through my body in waves. Each one worse than the last. But Edward was here. I felt peace. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. 

“No Beau, sweetie you have to stay awake.” Esme’s panicked voice sounded like it was from another room. I realized what was happening. 

“Please………. mom……. I….” My thoughts were screaming but I couldn’t make my mouth move. The undercurrents of my mind pulled me under. Alice promised the plan would work, and it was. Everyone was safe. That was the main goal of the plan after all, wasn't it? I would sacrifice everything for Bella, Edward, The Cullens. For the first time in my life I realized that I really did have a family. One I truly loved. I felt my time ending, I would have to make it up to Edward in another lifetime. 

  
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Something burned through my chest. My eyes flashed open. Someone was crying and running away. I was screaming again. I couldn’t feel the motorcycle accidents anymore. I was on fire. I was sure of it. I couldn’t see any flames. I faded back out. 

  
  
  
  
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I opened my eyes. 

“Beau!” I saw flames in front of me. I knew it. I focused, no it wasn’t on me. It was on the road and instead of my body I saw pieces of James burning. I felt like I could easily be in his place. My whole body was overcome with the burning that had started in my chest. 

“Beau!” I looked up. 

“Edward.” 

“I’m here, I’m here.” I let out another scream. The waves pulled me under. 

  
  
  
  
  
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My eyes opened to a sound so loud I was sure I’d go deaf. I was screaming. I opened my eyes and saw Edward holding me, rocking gently. Where were we?

“Edward!” He said nothing. 

“Edward make it stop!” I begged him with a hoarse voice. He didn’t even look at me. I knew in that moment I was dying, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. With one last scream I let go of everything I had left. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
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	21. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have wrestled with the next two chapters for awhile now. I felt like using the original transformation in the twilight series was much better than the thin one from L&D. I feel like it adds a much needed depth. 
> 
> AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH to all those who left KUDOS and comments. They mean the world to me!

I drew in a sharp breath, I felt as if I had emerged from the water after almost drowning. I didn’t realize someone was holding my hand until whoever it was squeezed it lightly. This was not a touch I expected. After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me. It was Edward. 

Everything was so clear. Sharp. Defined. I knew immediately I was in The Cullens’ house, though I had never seen this room before. 

The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see the glowing strands of the filaments inside the bulb. I could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the spectrum, an eighth color I had no name for. Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling above. In front of it, I could see the dust motes in the air, the sides the light touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate. They spun like little planets, moving around each other in a celestial dance.

The dust was so beautiful that I inhaled in shock; the air whistled down my throat, swirling the motes into a vortex. The action felt wrong. I did not need the air, but I liked it. In it, I could taste the room around me—taste the lovely dust motes, the mix of the stagnant air mingling with the flow of slightly cooler air from the open door. Taste a lush whiff of silk.

And most of all, I could taste an almost-honey-lilac-and-sun- flavored scent that was the strongest thing, the closest thing to me. I heard the sound of the others, breathing again now that I did. Their breath mixed with the scent that was something just off honey and lilac and sunshine, bringing new flavors. Cinnamon, hyacinth, pear, seawater, rising bread, pine, vanilla, leather, apple, moss, lavender, chocolate.... I traded a dozen different comparisons in my mind, but none of them fit exactly. So sweet and pleasant.

I held my pose for an eighth of a second longer, adjusting to the scene before me.

Edward was leaning across the large oak table that I had been lying on, his hand reached out toward me, his expression anxious.

“Beau, It’s okay. I’m here.” I could not answer immediately, lost as I was in the velvet folds of his voice. It was the most perfect symphony, a symphony in one instrument, an instrument more profound than any created by man. . . .

“What happened.” My throat hurt.

“You don’t remember?” I shook my head no.

Edward’s face was the most important thing, but my peripheral vision catalogued everything else, just in case. Some instinct to defend had been triggered, and I automatically searched for any sign of danger. The Cullens waited cautiously against the far wall by the door, Emmett and Jasper in the front. Like there was danger. My nostrils flared, searching for the threat. I could smell nothing out of place. There was a faint scent of something delicious—but it was marred by harsh chemicals— it left my throat aching and burning.

Alice was peeking around Jasper’s elbow with a huge grin on her face; the light sparkled off her teeth, another eight-color rainbow. That grin reassured me and then put the pieces together. Jasper and Emmett were in the front to protect the others, as I had assumed. What I hadn’t grasped immediately was that I was the danger.

All this was a sideline. The greater part of my senses and my mind were still focused on Edward’s face. I had never seen it before this second.

How many times had I stared at Edward and marveled over his beauty? How many hours—days, weeks—of my life had I spent dreaming about what I then deemed to be perfection? I thought I’d known his face better than my own. I’d thought this was the one sure physical thing in my whole world: the flawlessness of Edward’s face.

I may as well have been blind.

For the first time, in what felt like my whole life, I saw his face. I gasped and then struggled with my vocabulary, unable to find the right words. I needed better words.  At this point, the other part of my attention had ascertained that there was no danger here besides myself, and I automatically straightened out of my crouch; almost a whole second had passed since I’d been on the table.

“What happened?” I asked again.

I was momentarily preoccupied by the way my body moved. The instant I’d considered standing erect, I was already straight. There was no brief fragment of time in which the action occurred; change was instantaneous, almost as if there was no movement at all. I continued to stare at Edward’s face, motionless again.  He moved slowly around the table—each step taking nearly half a second, each step flowing sinuously like river water weaving over smooth stones—his hand still outstretched. I watched the grace of his advance, absorbing it with my new eyes.

“Beau?” he asked in a low, calming tone, but the worry in his voice layered my name with tension. “Beau, love? I’m sorry, I know it’s disorienting. But you’re alright. Everything is fine.”

Everything? My mind spun out, spiraling back to the last thing I could remember. The memory seemed dim, like I was watching through a thick, dark veil. Everything had been so blurred.

When he said everything was fine, did that include Bella? I tried to remember her face but was irritating to try to see through the foggy memories. Her face was shrouded in darkness, so poorly lit. . . .

What about James? Was he gone? I remembered him burning vaguely but that too seemed to be darker, farther away…..

Were the Cullens safe, had anyone gotten hurt? Did Edward’s blanket assurance cover all of that? Or was he just trying to calm me?

And Edward? What would I tell him now? Would he forgive me? 

I circled back to Bella. She must have called while I was burning. What had they told her? What did she think had happened to me?

_ The burning.  _ I thought to myself. I looked into Edward’s eyes.

“Edward, am…. Am I-” He nodded. It was a good thing I Didn't need to breathe, I couldn’t pull a single breath into my lungs. How did this happen? It’s what I had wanted but there were so many blanks. I started forcing the memories back into place. 

  
  


As I deliberated for one small piece of a second on that night, Edward reached out tentatively and stroked his fingertips across my cheek. Smooth as satin, soft as a feather, and now exactly matched to the temperature of my skin. His touch seemed to sweep beneath the surface of my skin, right through the bones of my face. The feeling was tingly, electric—it jolted through my bones, down my spine, and trembled in my stomach.

Wait, I thought as the trembling blossomed into a warmth, a yearning. Wasn’t I supposed to lose this? Wasn’t my choice unforgivable to him? I was a newborn vampire. The dry, scorching ache in my throat gave proof to that. And I knew what decision entailed. Edward never wanted me to choose this. Why wasn’t he furious? Was he? 

But as Edward’s hand curled to the shape of my face like satin-covered steel, desire raced through my dried-out veins, singing from my scalp to my toes. He arched one perfect eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. I threw my arms around him. Again, it was like there was no movement. One moment I stood straight and still as a statue; in the same instant, he was in my arms.

Warm—or at least, that was my perception. With the sweet, delicious scent that I’d never been able to really take in with my dull human senses, but that was one hundred percent Edward. I pressed my face into his smooth chest.

And then he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Leaned away from my embrace. I stared up at his face, confused and frightened by the rejection.  _ He is mad _ , I thought to myself.

“Um... carefully, Beau. Ow.”

I yanked my arms away, folding them behind my back as soon as I understood. I was too strong.

“Oops,” I mouthed.

He smiled the kind of smile that would have stopped my heart if it were still beating.

“Don’t panic, love,” he said, lifting his hand to touch my lips, parted in horror. “You’re just a bit stronger than I am for the moment.”

My eyebrows pushed together. it felt more surreal than any other part of this ultimately surreal moment. I was stronger than Edward. I’d made him say ow.

His hand stroked my cheek again, and I all but forgot my distress as another wave of desire rippled through my motionless body. These emotions were so much stronger than I was used to that it was hard to stick to one train of thought despite the extra room in my head. Each new sensation overwhelmed me. 

I made a concerted effort to focus. There was something I needed to say. The most important thing. Very carefully, so carefully that the movement was actually discernible, I brought my right arm out from behind my back and raised my hand to touch his cheek. I refused to let myself be sidetracked by the pearly color of my hand or by the smooth silk of his skin or by the charge that zinged in my fingertips. I stared into his eyes and heard my own voice for the first time.

“I’m sorry.” I said, but it sounded like singing. My voice rang and shimmered like a bell. His answering smile dazzled me more than it ever had when I was human; I could really see it now.

“I love you,” he told me.

“You aren’t mad at me?” I waited nervously for his reply.

“Alice showed me everything. I can see now, there was no other way, and I…” his voice broke “I should’ve been strong enough for you, to realize that, and save you myself.” He took my face between his hands and leaned his face to mine—slow enough to remind me to be careful. He kissed me, soft as a whisper at first, and then suddenly stronger, fiercer. I tried to remember to be gentle with him, but it was hard work to remember anything in the onslaught of sensation, hard to hold on to any coherent thoughts.

It was like he’d never kissed me—like this was our first kiss. And, in truth, he’d never kissed me this way before. It almost made me feel guilty. Surely I was in breach of the contract. I couldn’t be allowed to have this, too. Though I didn’t need oxygen, my breathing sped, raced as fast as it had when I was burning. This was a different kind of fire.

Someone cleared his throat. Emmett. I recognized the deep sound at once, joking and annoyed at the same time. I’d forgotten we weren’t alone. And then I realized that the way I was curved around Edward now was not exactly polite for company. Embarrassed, I half-stepped away in another instantaneous movement.

Edward chuckled and stepped with me, keeping his arms tight around my waist. His face was glowing—like a white flame burned from behind his diamond skin. I took an unnecessary breath to settle myself. How different this kissing was! I read his expression as I compared the indistinct human memories to this clear, intense feeling. He looked... a little smug.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I accused in my singing voice, my eyes narrowing a tiny bit.

He laughed, radiant with relief that it was all over—the fear, the pain, the uncertainties, the waiting, all of it behind us now. “It was sort of necessary at the time,” he reminded me. “Now it’s your turn to not break me.” He laughed again.

I frowned as I considered that, and then Edward was not the only one laughing. Carlisle stepped around Emmett and walked toward me swiftly; his eyes were only slightly wary, but Jasper shadowed his footsteps. I’d never seen Carlisle’s face before either, not really. I had an odd urge to blink—like I was staring at the sun.

“How do you feel, Beau?” Carlisle asked. I considered that for a sixty-fourth of a second.

“Overwhelmed. There’s so much. . . .” I trailed off, listening to the bell-tone of my voice again.

“Yes, it can be quite confusing.”

I nodded one fast, jerky bob. “But I feel like me. Sort of.”

Edward’s arms squeezed lightly around my waist. 

“You guys, you aren’t mad?”

“What’s done is done.” Carlisle held up his hands. How could I make so many impossible decisions and be forgiven for them all?

“You are quite controlled,” Carlisle mused. “More so than I expected, you’ve had no time to prepare yourself mentally for this.”

I thought about the wild mood swings, the difficulty concentrating, and whispered, “I’m not sure about that.”

He nodded seriously, and then his jeweled eyes glittered with interest. “Tell me, what do you remember of the transformation process?”

I hesitated, intensely aware of Edward’s breath brushing against my cheek, sending whispers of electricity through my skin.

“Everything was... very dim before. I remember crashing the bike and I remember Alice and Esme and there was a fire. . .” I looked at Edward, momentarily frightened by the memory.

“James is gone,” he promised, “It's finished.”

“What do you remember after that?”

I focused on the faded memory.

“There was just burning, in my chest and then everywhere. Edward, I remember Edward was there. I thought I was dying. I let go and then I don’t remember anymore.” 

“Amazing,” Carlisle breathed, his eyes alight. “I want you to think—to tell me everything you remember,” Carlisle pressed excitedly, and I couldn’t help the grimace that flashed across my face. I didn’t want to think about the burning. Unlike the human memories, that part was perfectly clear and I found I could remember it with far too much precision.

“Is it important?” I didn’t understand all the fuss.

“Well it’s just, you were so quiet. You screamed and then there was nothing. I panicked that you may have actually died.” Edward said softly.

“I thought I was. I saw your face and you looked so… broken. I wanted to say so many things but the burning.” I grabbed my throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Beau,” Carlisle apologized immediately. “Of course your thirst must be very uncomfortable. This conversation can wait.”

Until he’d mentioned it, the thirst actually wasn’t unmanageable. There was so much room in my head. A separate part of my brain was keeping tabs on the burn in my throat, almost like a reflex. The way my old brain had handled breathing and blinking.

But Carlisle’s assumption brought the burn to the forefront of my mind. Suddenly, the dry ache was all I could think about, and the more I thought about it, the more it hurt. My hand gripped my throat a little tighter. The skin of my neck was strange beneath my fingers. So smooth it was somehow soft, though it was hard as stone, too.

Edward dropped his arms and took my other hand, tugging gently. “Let’s hunt, Beau” My eyes opened wider and the pain of the thirst receded, shock taking its place.

Me? Hunt? With Edward? But... how? I didn’t know what to do.

He read the alarm in my expression and smiled encouragingly. “It’s quite easy, love. Instinctual. Don’t worry, I’ll show you.” When I didn’t move, he grinned his crooked smile and raised his eyebrows. “I was under the impression that you’d always wanted to see me hunt.”

I laughed in a short burst of humor (part of me listened in wonder to the pealing bell sound) as his words reminded me of cloudy human conversations. And then I took a whole second to run quickly through those first days with Edward—the true beginning of my life—in my head so that I would never forget them. I did not expect that it would be so uncomfortable to remember. Like trying to squint through muddy water. I did not want to forget one minute I’d spent with Edward, even now, when eternity stretched in front of us. I would have to make sure those human memories were cemented into my infallible vampire mind.

“Shall we?” Edward asked. He reached up to take the hand that was still at my neck. His fingers smoothed down the column of my throat. “I don’t want you to be hurting,” he added in a low murmur. Something I would not have been able to hear before.

“I’m fine,” I said out of lingering human habit. “Wait. First.”

There was so much. I’d never gotten to my questions. There were more important things than the ache.

It was Carlisle who spoke now. “Yes?”

“I want to see Esme.” I saw Edward and Carlisle exchange a guarded glance.

“What?” I demanded.

“Beau,” Edward said soothingly. “We have time enough for that later.” I frowned. We had time enough for it now. Why couldn’t I see her? 

“Where is she?” I listened hard, and then I could hear her pacing quietly in a room beneath us. I could hear her clasp and unclasp her hands. 

“Later.” Edward repeated and pulled me by the hands. 

“Wait,” I protested again, trying to focus. “What about Bella? And Charlie? Tell me everything that I missed. How long was I... unconscious?”

Edward didn’t seem to notice my hesitation over the last word. Instead, he was exchanging another wary glance with Carlisle.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered.

“Nothing is wrong,” Carlisle told me, emphasizing the last word in a strange way. “You were only unaware for just over two days. It was very fast, as these things go.” He paused to shift uncomfortably and then sighed. “Your family is …safe...”

“I should call Bella..,” I murmured to myself, but, listening to my own voice, I understood the new difficulties. She wouldn’t recognize this voice. It wouldn’t reassure her. 

Another glance between them.

“Beau,” Edward said quickly. “There’s much to discuss, but we should take care of you first. You have to be in pain. . . .”

When he pointed that out, I remembered the burn in my throat and swallowed convulsively. “But Bella-”

“We have all the time in the world, Beau,” he reminded me gently.

Of course. I could wait a little longer; it would be easier to talk when the fierce pain of the fiery thirst was no longer scattering my concentration. “Okay.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Alice trilled from the doorway. She danced across the room, dreamily graceful. As with Edward and Carlisle, I felt some shock as I really looked at her face for the first time. So lovely. “You promised I could be there the first time! What if you two run past something reflective?”

“Alice—,” Edward protested.

“It will only take a second!” And with that, Alice darted from the room.

Edward sighed.

“What is she talking about?”

But Alice was already back, carrying the huge, gilt-framed mirror, which was nearly twice as tall as she was, and several times as wide.

Jasper had been so still and silent that I’d taken no notice of him since he’d followed behind Carlisle. Now he moved again, to hover over Alice, his eyes locked on my expression. Because I was the danger here. I knew he would be tasting the mood around me, too, and so he must have felt my jolt of shock as I studied his face, looking at it closely for the first time.

Through my sightless human eyes, I had never noticed Jasper was covered in scars. They looked like jagged bite marks. Now that I could see, the scars were Jasper’s most dominant feature. It was hard to take my eyes off his ravaged neck and jaw—hard to believe that even a vampire could have survived so many sets of teeth ripping into his throat.

.

Instinctively, I tensed to defend myself and to some extent Edward. Any vampire who saw Jasper would have had the same reaction. The scars were like a lighted billboard. Dangerous, they screamed. How many vampires had tried to kill Jasper? Hundreds? Thousands? The same number that had died in the attempt.

Jasper both saw and felt my assessment, my caution, and he smiled wryly.

I became distracted when Alice set the mirror down. I was riveted by the person in the mirror.

My first reaction was an unthinking pleasure. The alien creature in the glass was indisputably beautiful, every bit as beautiful as Edward. He was fluid even in stillness, and his flawless face was pale as the moon against his dark hair. His limbs were smooth and strong, skin glistening subtly, luminous as a pearl. My second reaction was horror.

Who was he? At first glance, I couldn’t find my face anywhere in the smooth, perfect planes of her features. And his eyes! Though I’d seen the same kind on James, his eyes still sent a thrill of terror through me. All the while I studied and reacted, his face was perfectly composed, a carving of an Adonis, showing nothing of the turmoil roiling inside me. And then his full lips moved.

“The eyes?” I whispered, unwilling to say my eyes. “How long?”

“They’ll darken up in a few months,” Edward said in a soft, comforting voice. “Animal blood dilutes the color more quickly than a diet of human blood. They’ll turn amber first, then gold.”

My eyes would blaze like vicious red flames for months?

“Months?” My voice was higher now, stressed. In the mirror, the perfect eyebrows lifted

incredulously above his glowing crimson eyes—brighter than any I’d ever seen before.

Jasper took a step forward, alarmed by the intensity of my sudden anxiety. 

No one answered my question. I looked away, to Edward and Alice. Both their eyes were slightly unfocused—reacting to Jasper’s unease. Listening to its cause, looking ahead to the immediate future. I took another deep, unnecessary breath.

“No, I’m fine,” I promised them. My eyes flickered to the stranger in the mirror and back. “It’s just... a lot to take in.”

Jasper’s brow furrowed, highlighting the two scars over his left eye.

“I don’t know,” Edward murmured.

The man in the mirror frowned. “What question did I miss?”

Edward grinned. “Jasper wonders how you’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Controlling your emotions, Beau,” Jasper answered. “I’ve never seen a newborn do that—stop an emotion in its tracks that way. You were upset, but when you saw our concern, you reined it in, regained power over yourself. I was prepared to help, but you didn’t need it.”

“Is that wrong?” I asked. My body automatically froze as I waited for his verdict. 

“No,” he said, but his voice was unsure. Edward stroked his hand down my arm, as if encouraging me to thaw. “It’s very impressive, Beau, but we don’t understand it. We don’t know how long it can hold.”

I considered that for a portion of a second. At any moment, would I snap? Turn into a monster?

I couldn’t feel it coming on.... Maybe there was no way to anticipate such a thing. If I did lose control what would Jasper do? I looked at his scars and decided I didn’t want to find out.

“But what do you think?” Alice asked, a little impatient now, pointing to the mirror. 

“I’m not sure,” I hedged, not wanting to admit how frightened I really was.

I stared at the beautiful man with the terrifying eyes, looking for pieces of me. There was something there in the shape of his cheek bones - if you looked past the dizzying beauty, it was true that his upper lip was slightly out of balance, a bit too full to match the lower. Finding this familiar little flaw made me feel a tiny bit better. Maybe the rest of me was in there, too. I raised my hand experimentally, and the man in the mirror copied the movement, touching his face, too. His crimson eyes watched me warily.

Edward sighed.

I turned away from her to look at him, raising one eyebrow.

“Disappointed?” I asked, my ringing voice impassive.

He laughed. “Yes,” he admitted. I felt the shock break through the composed mask on my face, followed instantly by the hurt.

Alice snarled. Jasper leaned forward again, waiting for me to snap.

But Edward ignored them and wrapped his arms tightly around my newly frozen form, pressing his lips against my cheek. “I was rather hoping that I’d be able to hear your mind, now that it is more similar to my own,” he murmured. “And here I am, as frustrated as ever, wondering what could possibly be going on inside your head.”

I felt better at once.

“Oh well,” I said lightly, relieved that my thoughts were still my own. “I guess my brain will never work right. At least I’m pretty.”

It was becoming easier to joke with him as I adjusted, to think in straight lines. To be myself.

Edward growled in my ear. “Beau, you have never been merely pretty.”

Then his face pulled away from mine, and he sighed. “All right, all right,” he said to someone.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re making Jasper more edgy by the second. He may relax a little when you’ve hunted.”

I looked at Jasper’s worried expression and nodded. I didn’t want to snap here, if that was coming. Better to be surrounded by trees than family.

“Okay. Let’s hunt,” I agreed, a thrill of nerves and anticipation making my stomach quiver. I unwrapped Edward’s arms from around me, keeping one of his hands, and turned my back on the strange and beautiful man in the mirror. 


	22. The Hunt

“Stalling?” he challenged.

“A little. I don’t know how. . . .” We stood at the edge of the window. 

And I was very conscious of my family behind me, watching silently. Mostly silently. I had so many more questions. My mind raced, I wasn’t sure how I was processing any of it. I looked at Jasper, I needed to focus and go hunt so that he would calm. I had no idea how to tackle the task in front of me. 

Also, these clothes — someone must have put me in sometime when I was too lost in the burning to notice—was not what I would have picked out for either jumping or hunting. Tightly fitted ice-blue silk? What did they think I would need it for? Was there a cocktail party later?

“Watch me,” Edward said. And then, very casually, he stepped out of the tall, open window and fell. I watched carefully, analyzing the angle at which he bent his knees to absorb the impact. The sound of his landing was very low—a muted thud that could have been a door softly closed, or a book gently laid on a table.

It didn’t look hard. I looked down at the expensive dress shoes and kicked them off. 

“Beau you’re ruining the outfit!” Alice complained. Ah, so it was her. 

Clenching my teeth as I concentrated, I tried to copy his casual step into empty air. If I did this too recklessly Jasper would surely react.

Ha! The ground seemed to move toward me so slowly that it was nothing at all to place my feet. 

I absorbed the impact on the balls of my feet, not wanting to make too much noise. My landing seemed just as quiet as his. I grinned at him.

“Right. Easy.”

He smiled back. “Beau?”

“Yes?”

“That was quite graceful—even for a vampire.”

I considered that for a moment, and then I beamed. If he’d just been saying that, then They all would have laughed. No one found his remark humorous, so it must have been true. It was the first time anyone had ever applied the word graceful to me in my entire life... or, well, existence anyway.

“Thank you,” I told him.

And then I shrugged the suit jacket off throwing it on the ground. I ripped the blue button down off as well leaving only the white undershirt. 

Alice grumbled, “His fashion sense hasn’t improved as much as his balance.” 

Edward took my hand—I couldn’t stop marveling at the smoothness, the comfortable temperature of his skin—and darted through the backyard to the edge of the river. I went along with him effortlessly. Everything physical seemed very simple.

“Are we swimming?” I asked him when we stopped beside the water. I wanted to swim, the thought was like an itch covering my whole body. I wanted to swim so bad.

“No. We’re jumping.”

I pursed my lips, considering. Defiance seemed easily accomplished, but I could still hear Jasper in the house.

“You first,” I said.

He touched my cheek, took two quick backward strides, and then ran back those two steps, launching himself from a flat stone firmly embedded in the riverbank. I studied the flash of movement as he arced over the water, finally turning a somersault just before he disappeared into the thick trees on the other side of the river.

“Show-off,” I muttered, and heard his invisible laugh. I backed up five paces, just in case, and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, I was anxious again. Not about falling or getting hurt—I was more worried about the forest getting hurt. It had come on slowly, but I could feel it now—the raw, massive strength thrilling in my limbs. I was suddenly sure that if I wanted to tunnel under the river, to claw or beat my way straight through the bedrock, it wouldn’t take me very long. The objects around me —the trees, the shrubs, the rocks... the house—had all begun to look very fragile.

Hoping very much that Esme was not particularly fond of any specific trees across the river, I began my first stride. And then stopped when the tight pants constricted all the way down, even on my calves. Alice! Who makes jeans this tight all the way down! 

I bent carefully and ripped off the bottom of the dressy jeans just above the knee. I looked at the material and wondered how much they cost. I shrugged. Then I fixed the other side to match.

Much better.

I could hear the muffled laughter in the house, and even the sound of someone gritting her teeth. The laughter came from upstairs and down, and I very easily recognized the much different tones of the voices.

“Beau?” Edward called from the woods, his voice moving closer. “Do you want to watch again?”

But I remembered everything perfectly, of course, and I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to find more humor in my education. This was physical—it should be instinctive. So I took a deep breath and ran for the river.

Unhindered by my pants, it took only one long bound to reach the water’s edge. Just an eighty-fourth of a second, and yet it was plenty of time—my eyes and my mind moved so quickly that one step was enough. It was simple to position my right foot just so against the flat stone and exert the adequate pressure to send my body wheeling up into the air. I was paying more attention to aim than force, and I erred on the amount of power necessary—but at least I didn’t err on the side that would have gotten me wet. The fifty yard width was slightly too easy a distance. . . .It was a strange, giddy, electrifying thing, but a short thing. An entire second had yet to pass, and I was across.

I was expecting the close-packed trees to be a problem, but they were surprisingly helpful. It was a simple matter to reach out with one sure hand as I fell back toward the earth again deep inside the forest and catch myself on a convenient branch; I swung lightly from the limb and landed on my toes, still fifteen feet from the ground on the wide bough of a Sitka spruce.

It was fabulous.

Over the sound of my peals of delighted laughter, I could hear Edward racing to find me. My jump had been twice as long as his. When he reached my tree, his eyes were wide. I leaped nimbly from the branch to his side, soundlessly landing again on the balls of my feet.

“Was that good?” I wondered, my breathing accelerated with excitement.

“Very good.” He smiled approvingly, but his casual tone didn’t match the surprised expression in his eyes.

“Can we do it again?”

“Focus, Beau —- we Are on a hunting trip.”

“Oh, right.” I nodded. “Hunting.”

“Follow me... if you can.” He grinned, his expression suddenly taunting, and broke into a run.

He was faster than me. I couldn’t imagine how he moved his legs with such blinding speed, but it was beyond me. However, I was stronger, and every stride of mine matched the length of three of his. And so I flew with him through the living green web, by his side, not following at all. As I ran, I couldn’t help laughing quietly at the thrill of it; the laughter neither slowed me nor upset my focus.

I could finally understand why Edward never hit the trees when he ran—a question that had always been a mystery to me. It was a peculiar sensation, the balance between the speed and the clarity. For, while I rocketed over, under, and through the thick jade maze at a rate that should have reduced everything around me to a streaky green blur, I could plainly see each tiny leaf on all the small branches of every insignificant shrub that I passed.

The wind of my speed blew my hair back and wiped around me, and, though I knew it shouldn’t, it felt warm against my skin. Just as the rough forest floor shouldn’t feel like velvet beneath my bare soles, and the limbs that whipped against my skin shouldn’t feel like caressing feathers.

The forest was much more alive than I’d ever known—small creatures whose existence I’d never guessed at teemed in the leaves around me. They all grew silent after we passed, their breath quickening in fear. The animals had a much wiser reaction to our scent than humans seemed to. Certainly, it’d had the opposite effect on me.

I kept waiting to feel winded, but my breath came effortlessly. I waited for the burn to begin in my muscles, but my strength only seemed to increase as I grew accustomed to my stride. My leaping bounds stretched longer, and soon he was trying to keep up with me. I laughed again, exultant, when I heard him falling behind. My naked feet touched the ground so infrequently now it felt more like flying than running.

“Beau,” he called dryly, his voice even, lazy. I could hear nothing else; he had stopped. I briefly considered mutiny.

But, with a sigh, I turned and jogged lightly to his side, some hundred yards back. I looked at him expectantly. He was smiling, with one eyebrow raised. He was so beautiful that I could only stare.

“Did you want to stay in the country?” he asked, amused. “Or were you planning to continue on to Canada this afternoon?”

“This is fine,” I agreed, concentrating less on what he was saying and more on the mesmerizing way his lips moved when he spoke. It was hard not to become sidetracked with everything fresh in my strong new eyes. “What are we hunting?”

“Deer. I thought something easy for your first time . . .” He trailed off when my eyes narrowed at the word easy.

But I wasn’t going to argue; I was too thirsty. As soon as I’d started to think about the dry burn in my throat, it was all I could think about. Definitely getting worse. My mouth felt like four o’clock on a June afternoon in Death Valley.

“Where?” I asked, scanning the trees impatiently. Now that I had given the thirst my attention, it seemed to taint every other thought in my head, leaking into the more pleasant thoughts of running and Edward’s lips and kissing and... scorching thirst. I couldn’t get away from it.

“Hold still for a minute,” he said, putting his hands lightly on my shoulders. The urgency of my thirst receded momentarily at his touch.

“Now close your eyes,” he murmured. When I obeyed, he raised his hands to my face, stroking my cheekbones. I felt my breathing speed and waited briefly again for the blush that wouldn’t come.

“Listen,” Edward instructed. “What do you hear?”

Everything, I could have said; his perfect voice, his breath, his lips brushing together as he spoke, the whisper of birds preening their feathers in the treetops, their fluttering heartbeats, the maple leaves scraping together, the faint clicking of ants following each other in a long line up the bark of the nearest tree. But I knew he meant something specific, so I let my ears range outward, seeking something different than the small hum of life that surrounded me. There was an open space near us—the wind had a different sound across the exposed grass—and a small creek, with a rocky bed. And there, near the noise of the water, was the splash of lapping tongues, the loud thudding of heavy hearts, pumping thick streams of blood. . . . It felt like the sides of my throat had sucked closed.

“By the creek, to the northeast?” I asked, my eyes still shut.

“Yes.” His tone was approving. “Now... wait for the breeze again and... what do you smell?”

Mostly him—his strange honey-lilac-and-sun perfume. But also the rich, earthy smell of rot and moss, the resin in the evergreens, the warm, almost nutty aroma of the small rodents cowering beneath the tree roots. And then, reaching out again, the clean smell of the water, which was surprisingly unappealing despite my thirst. I focused toward the water and found the scent that must have gone with the lapping noise and the pounding heart. Another warm smell, rich and tangy, stronger than the others. And yet nearly as unappealing as the brook. I wrinkled my nose.

He chuckled. “I know—it takes some getting used to.”

“Three?” I guessed.

“Five. There are two more in the trees behind them.” 

“What do I do now?”

His voice sounded like he was smiling. “What do you feel like doing?”

I thought about that, my eyes still shut as I listened and breathed in the scent. Another bout of baking thirst intruded on my awareness, and suddenly the warm, tangy odor wasn’t quite so objectionable. At least it would be something hot and wet in my desiccated mouth. My eyes snapped open.

“Don’t think about it,” he suggested as he lifted his hands off my face and took a step back. “Just follow your instincts.”

I let myself drift with the scent, barely aware of my movement as I ghosted down the incline to the narrow meadow where the stream flowed. My body shifted forward automatically into a low crouch as I hesitated at the fern-fringed edge of the trees. I could see a big buck, two dozen antler points crowning his head, at the stream’s edge, and the shadow-spotted shapes of the four others heading eastward into forest at a leisurely pace.

I centered myself around the scent of the male, the hot spot in his shaggy neck where the warmth pulsed strongest. Only thirty yards—two or three bounds—between us. I tensed myself for the first leap.

But as my muscles bunched in preparation, the wind shifted, blowing stronger now, and from the south. I didn’t stop to think, hurtling out of the trees in a path perpendicular to my original plan, scaring the deer into the forest, racing after a new fragrance so attractive that there wasn’t a choice. It was compulsory.

The scent ruled completely. I was single-minded as I traced it, aware only of the thirst and the smell that promised to quench it. The thirst got worse, so painful now that it confused all my other thoughts and began to remind me of the burn of venom in my veins. I ran faster.

There was only one thing that had any chance of penetrating my focus now, an instinct more powerful, more basic than the need to quench the fire—it was the instinct to protect myself from danger.

Self-preservation.

I was suddenly alert to the fact that I was being followed. The pull of the irresistible scent warred with the impulse to turn and defend my hunt. A bubble of sound built in my chest, my lips pulled back of their own accord to expose my teeth in warning. My feet slowed, the need to protect my back struggling against the desire to quench my thirst.

And then I could hear my pursuer gaining, and defense won. As I spun, the rising sound ripped its way up my throat and out.

The feral snarl, coming from my own mouth, was so unexpected that it brought me up short. It unsettled me, and it cleared my head for a second—the thirst-driven haze receded, though the thirst burned on. The wind shifted, blowing the smell of wet earth and coming rain across my face, further freeing me from the other scent’s fiery grip—a scent so delicious it could only be human.

Edward hesitated a few feet away, his arms raised as if to embrace me—or restrain me. His face was intent and cautious as I froze, horrified.

I realized that I had been about to attack him. With a hard jerk, I straightened out of my defensive crouch. I held my breath as I refocused, fearing the power of the fragrance swirling up from the south.

He could see reason return to my face, and he took a step toward me, lowering his arms.

“I have to get away from here,” I spit through my teeth, using the breath I had.

Shock crossed his face. “Can you leave?”

I didn’t have time to ask him what he meant by that. I knew the ability to think clearly would last only as long as I could stop myself from thinking of— I burst into a run again, a flat-out sprint straight north, concentrating solely on the uncomfortable feeling of sensory deprivation that seemed to be my body’s only response to the lack of air. My one goal was to run far enough away that the scent behind me would be completely lost. Impossible to find, even if I changed my mind…

Once again, I was aware of being followed, but I was sane this time. I fought the instinct to breathe—to use the flavors in the air to be sure it was Edward. I didn’t have to fight long; I saw a giant lake. SWIM! Suddenly the itch was back. This time I was uninhibited, I jumped into the water and sank like a stone. I pushed my way through the water with ease. I focused on each muscle as it moved through the strokes. I felt all my tension unravel. I pushed towards the light and broke the surface. I laughed completely unrestrained. I backstroked and stared at the sky. Each color was brilliant. My itch was scratched. I sang softly.

“ Come è bella c'è la luna brilla e strette, Strette come è tutta bella a passeggiare, Sotto il cielo di Roma.” 

“Beau?” I looked over at Edward at the water’s edge.

“I used to sing that Bella, It says her name.” I laughed again. The sound was a deafening echo. I had never felt like this before. I felt safe, I felt free. It was absolutely intoxicating.

“How did you do that?” he demanded. I suddenly regained my situational awareness. When I opened my mouth, I could taste the air—it was unpolluted now, with no trace of the compelling perfume to torment my thirst. I took a deep breath. 

“Beau, how did you do it?” 

“Run away? I held my breath.”

“But how did you stop hunting?”

“When you came up behind me... I’m so sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? I’m the one who was horribly careless. I assumed no one would be so far from the trails, but I should have checked first. Such a stupid mistake! You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I growled at you!” I was still horrified that I was physically capable of such blasphemy.

“Of course you did. That’s only natural. But I can’t understand how you ran away.”

“What else could I do?” I asked. His attitude confused me—what did he want to have happened? “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He startled me, suddenly bursting into a spasm of loud laughter, throwing his head back and letting the sound bounce off the trees. I splashed water towards him.

“Why are you laughing at me?” 

He stopped at once, and I could see he was wary again. Keep it under control, I thought to myself. I had to watch my temper.

“I’m not laughing at you, Beau. I’m laughing because I am in shock. And I am in shock because I am completely amazed.”

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t be able to do any of this. You shouldn’t be so... so rational. You shouldn’t be able to stand here discussing this with me calmly and coolly. And, much more than any of that, you should not have been able to break off mid-hunt with the scent of human blood in the air. Even mature vampires have difficulty with that—we’re always very careful of where we hunt so as not to put ourselves in the path of temptation. Beau, you’re behaving like you’re decades rather than days old.”

“Oh.” 

“Also what are you doing in the water?”

“I wanted to swim so bad, I wanted to swim in the river but you made me jump and I was worried about Jasper-”

“Jasper?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to make him mad. He has all those scars. He looked at my every move waiting for me to mess up... I have experience with stepping on eggshells.”

“Are you saying all your restraint was just an attempt to placate Jasper?” I nodded. Edward dove into the water and made his way next to me in an instant.

“He won't hurt you Beau, I promise.” He put his hands on my face again, and his eyes were full of wonder. “What wouldn’t I give to be able to see into your mind for just this one moment.”

Such powerful emotions. I hadn’t been prepared for any of this. I’d been so sure it wouldn’t be the same when he touched me, that my actions would have lessened his love. Well, truthfully, it wasn’t the same. It was stronger. I reached up to trace the planes of his face; my fingers lingered on his lips.

“I thought you would be so mad at me?” My uncertainty made the words a question. “I thought, when I tricked you by hiding my mind with Bella, when I drove into the reservation, when I made the new plan with Alice…. I thought you’d never want me again. I’d be unforgivable.”

He blinked in shock.

“You thought… you were the one that would need forgiven?” I nodded. 

“Oh Beau, you risked everything, everyone trying to protect us all. I’ll admit at the time it split me into a million pieces.” I flinched but he continued, “looking back I realized that I had been the one hurting you.”

“How-“ he held up his hand.

“From the Moment James saw you, Alice could only see a future with you like this….” he gestured to me, “but I tried to fight it, to keep you the way I thought you should be. I might’ve killed you…. I should’ve been honest with you then, I should’ve let us make the decisions together, instead of forcing you to carry that weight alone…” I was confused, did he think he was the one who needed to be forgiven? After all I did? 

“Edward…” he shook his head. I changed the subject. “So is swimming a vampire thing?” 

Edward laughed.

“No, you’re just full of impulses is all. Newborns usually are.” I thought about it and sank under the water again. I looked at Edward through the current. Beautiful. I resurfaced.

“I like my impulses.” I kissed him. 

“How can you even concentrate on that? Aren’t you unbearably thirsty?”

Of course I was now, now that he’d brought it up again! I tried to swallow and then sighed, closing my eyes like I had before to help me concentrate. I let my senses range out around me, tensed this time in case of another onslaught of the delicious taboo scent.

Edward dropped his hands, not even breathing while I listened farther and farther out into the web of green life, sifting through the scents and sounds for something not totally repellant to my thirst. There was a hint of something different, a faint trail to the east. . . .

My eyes flashed open, but my focus was still on sharper senses as I turned and darted out of the water and silently eastward. The ground sloped steeply upward almost at once, and I ran in a hunting crouch, close to the ground, taking to the trees when that was easier. I sensed rather than heard Edward with me, flowing quietly through the woods, letting me lead.

The vegetation thinned as we climbed higher; the scent of pitch and resin grew more powerful, as did the trail I followed—it was a warm scent. A few seconds more and I could hear the crashing of hooves. Edward jumped into the branches above us. Automatically I darted into the boughs as well, gaining the strategic higher position, halfway up a towering silver fir.

The loud shuffle of hooves continued stealthily beneath me now; the rich scent was very close. My eyes pinpointed the movement linked with the sound, and I saw the bristled fur of my lunch slinking along the underbrush. He was big—easily six times my mass. His eyes were intent on the ground beneath; the bull Elk was grazing peacefully… I heard another movement some ways off but could tell that the predator was much smaller than I. 

With a light bound, I sailed through the air and landed on the Elk’s back. He felt the shiver of the air and whirled, shrieking surprise and defiance. He tried to widen the space between us, his eyes bright with fury. Half-crazed with thirst, I ignored the giant antlers and launched myself at him, knocking us both to the forest floor.

It wasn’t much of a fight.

His rack could have been caressing fingers for all the impact they had on my skin. His weight was nothing. My teeth unerringly sought his throat, and his instinctive resistance was pitifully feeble against my strength. My jaws locked easily over the precise point where the heat flow concentrated.

It was as effortless as biting into butter. My teeth were steel razors; they cut through the fur and fat and sinews like they weren’t there.

The flavor was wrong, but the blood was hot and wet and it soothed the ragged, itching thirst as I drank in an eager rush. The Elk’s struggles grew more and more feeble, and his screams choked off with a gurgle. The warmth of the blood radiated throughout my whole body, heating even my fingertips and toes. The Elk was finished before I was. The thirst flared again when he ran dry, and I shoved his carcass off my body in disgust. How could I still be thirsty after all that? The smaller predator, a coyote, hid in the bushes. I could smell him. I ripped a piece of the Elk meat and threw It his way. He came out timidly and began eating it. I looked into his eyes

_ I won’t hurt you,  _ his tail moved excitedly like he could hear me, could he? I looked in his eyes again  _ SIT!  _ He sat. My mouth dropped open. 

I wrenched myself erect in one quick move. Standing, I realized I was a bit of a mess. I wiped my face off on the back of my arm and wiped at the blood on my shirt. The antlers that had been so ineffectual against my skin had had more success with the thin undergarment. 

“Hmm,” Edward said. I looked up to see him leaning casually against a tree trunk, watching me with a thoughtful look on his face.

“I guess I could have done that better.” I was covered in dirt, my hair knotted, my shirt bloodstained and hanging in tatters. Surely Edward didn’t come home from hunting trips looking like this.

“You did perfectly fine,” he assured me. “It’s just that... it was much more difficult for me to watch than it should have been.”

I raised my eyebrows, confused.

“It goes against the grain,” he explained, “letting you wrestle with Bull Elks. I was having an anxiety attack the whole time.”

“Silly.”

“I know. Old habits die hard. I like the improvements to your shirt, though.”

If I could have blushed, I would have. I changed the subject. “Why am I still thirsty?”

“Because you’re young. Eat that.” He pointed to the coyote. 

“No!” Edward looked at me confused. 

“It’s not a house pet Beau, it’s food.” I looked at the dog eating. 

“He’s Not food.” I paused. “I want more Bull Elk.” 

“There aren’t any more nearby. Plenty of deer, though.”

“Hey, why does he smell different?” I pointed to the coyote. 

“The meat-eaters smell more like humans,” he explained. 

“Not that much like humans,” I disagreed, trying not to remember.

“We could go back,” he said solemnly, but there was a teasing light in his eye. “Whoever it was out there, they probably wouldn’t even mind death if you were the one delivering it.” His gaze ran over my ravaged shirt and ripped shorts again. “In fact, they would think they were already dead and gone to heaven the moment they saw you.”

I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Let’s go hunt some herbivores.” I looked at the coyote  _ COME!  _ He dutifully followed. 

“What the-“ Edward seemed too shocked to think. I shrugged. 

“I’m the alpha predator.” He rolled his eyes but I was already running.

We found a large herd of mule deer as we ran back toward home. He hunted with me this time, now that I’d gotten the hang of it. I brought down a large buck, making nearly as much of a mess as I had with the Bull elk. He’d finished with two before I was done with the first, not a hair ruffled, not a spot on his white shirt. We chased the scattered and terrified herd, but instead of feeding again, this time I watched carefully to see how he was able to hunt so neatly.

All the times that I had wished that Edward would not have to leave me behind when he hunted, I had secretly been just a little relieved. Because I was sure that seeing this would be frightening. Horrifying. That seeing him hunt would finally make him look like a vampire to me.

Of course, it was much different from this perspective, as a vampire myself. But I doubted that even my human eyes would have missed the beauty here. It was a surprisingly sensual experience to observe Edward hunting. His smooth spring was like the sinuous strike of a snake; his hands were so sure, so strong, so completely inescapable; his full lips were perfect as they parted gracefully over his gleaming teeth. He was glorious. I felt a sudden jolt of both pride and desire. He was mine. Nothing could ever separate him from me now. I was too strong to be torn from his side.

He was very quick. He turned to me and gazed curiously at my gloating expression.

“No longer thirsty?” he asked.

I shrugged. “You distracted me. You’re much better at it than I am.” I threw the dog another piece of meat. 

“Centuries of practice.” He smiled. His eyes were a disconcertingly lovely shade of honey gold now.

“Just one,” I corrected him.

He laughed. “Are you done for today? Or did you want to continue?”

“Done, I think.” I felt very full, sort of sloshy, even. I wasn’t sure how much more liquid would fit into my body. But the burn in my throat was only muted. I knew now that thirst was just an inescapable part of this life.

Worth it.

I felt in control. Perhaps my sense of security was false, but I did feel pretty good about not killing anyone today. If I could resist totally human strangers, wouldn’t I be able to handle Bella? 

“I want to go home,” I said. Now that my thirst was tamed (if nothing close to erased), my earlier worries were hard to forget. I wanted to reconcile with Bella and find out why Esme was avoiding me. Abruptly, I felt uneasy.

He held out his hand to me. I took it, and his skin felt warmer than before. His cheek was faintly flushed, the shadows under his eyes all but vanished. I was unable to resist stroking his face again. And again. I sort of forgot that I was waiting for a response to my request as I stared into his shimmering gold eyes. It was almost as hard as it had been to turn away from the scent of human blood, but I somehow kept the need to be careful firmly in my head as I stretched up on my toes and wrapped my arms around him. Gently.

He was not so hesitant in his movements; his arms locked around my waist and pulled me tight against his body. His lips crushed down on mine, but they felt soft. My lips no longer shaped themselves around his; they held their own.

Like before, it was as if the touch of his skin, his lips, his hands, was sinking right through my smooth, hard skin and into my new bones. To the very core of my body. I hadn’t imagined that I could love him more than I had. My old mind hadn’t been capable of holding this much love. My old heart had not been strong enough to bear it.

Maybe this was the part of me that I’d brought forward to be intensified in my new life. Like Carlisle’s compassion and Esme’s devotion. I would probably never be able to do anything interesting or special like Edward, Alice, and Jasper could do. Maybe I would just love Edward more than anyone in the history of the world had ever loved anyone else.

I could live with that.

I remembered parts of this—twisting my fingers in his hair, tracing the planes of his chest—but other parts were so new. He was new. It was an entirely different experience with Edward kissing me so fearlessly, so forcefully. I responded to his intensity, and then suddenly we were falling.

“Oops,” I said, and he laughed underneath me. “I didn’t mean to tackle you like that. Are you okay?”

He stroked my face. “Slightly better than okay.” And then a perplexed expression crossed his face.

“Home?” he asked uncertainly, trying to ascertain what I wanted most in this moment. A very difficult question to answer, because I wanted so many things at the same time.

I could tell that he wasn’t exactly averse to procrastinating our return trip, and it was hard to think about much besides his skin on mine—there really wasn’t that much left of the clothes I had started out with.

“Home,” I agreed, rueful, and I whipped back up onto my feet, pulling him with me. The coyote whimpered as we walked away. I looked him in the eyes  _ GO!  _ He ran off. Interesting. It was like the same thing I used to do with Bella. Talk to her just by looking in her eyes. I wondered. 

“Edward stop.” 

“What is it?” He looked concerned. 

“Just look me in the eyes and don’t move.” His worry was growing. I concentrated hard as I looked at him. 

_ Edward _

Edward jumped. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“How did you?” 

“Quiet. again.” We locked eyes.

_ Edward I love you.  _ His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. 

“Say something back.”

“I-“ 

“In your head!” I commanded. We looked at each other. 

_ Edward I love you _

_ I love you too  _

His voice was clear as day though his lips were shut. 

_ What is this? _

_ A gift? We will have to ask Carlisle. _

_ I used to do this with Bella, before…..  _

_ Before? _

_ We thought it was a twin thing.  _

Edward grabbed my hand and spoke aloud. “We need to go home.” 


	23. Amends

**“** Can I see Esme now?” I asked as we approached the house. 

“About Esme.” I stopped. 

“What?”

“She has been in solitude. Since that night.”

“Why.”

“No one knows.”

“You know.” I tapped my head.

“That’s true, but she asked me not to share it with anyone. She is very upset.” 

“Let's Go then.” 

“Well, I think you should clean up first.” Edward looked over my shredded clothes. “Though the more I see of you the better…” I playfully shoved him. He sailed through the air and hit a nearby tree, cracking it. 

“Edward!” I was at his side in less than a blink. He was laughing. 

“Beau, you may be the death of me yet.” I remembered hazily the first time he had said those words to me. What a lifetime ago that seemed now. He grabbed my hand and we headed back towards the house.

The water felt different as it ran over my body. The way, I Imagined, it must feel trickling over a large stone waterfall. The blood swirled with the water around the tiny drain, mirroring the memories circling my cloudy head. Would Bella ever forgive me? I didn’t know. I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. The beautiful man in the mirror was becoming more familiar. I looked over my shoulder. I had ripped all the skin off it, but it looked the same as the rest of me. Smooth, marbled. A glimpse of a shimmer caught my eye. I turned to see a white mark, like Jasper's scars, in the shape of my once tattoo. I thought of Bella again. I closed my eyes and practiced what I would say to her.

_ Bella, I’m sorry. _

_ BEAU?!  _ My eyes flew open and I looked around. She wasn’t anywhere. I closed my eyes and swallowed uncomfortably.

_ Bells? _

_ It is you! I knew it. I just knew it. I would’ve felt it and- _

_ You’re rambling.  _

_ Beau you have no-  _

_ Where are you?  _

_ I’m at home. _

_ How can you be at home?  _

_ I’m in your bedroom.  _

_ How is this happening?  _

_ I don’t know. And I don’t even care.  _

_ Bells- _

_ I knew you weren’t dead. _

I reached out for the counter. It cracked beneath me. I looked up into the mirror, into his red eyes, my red eyes. In another impulse I punched the glass. Edward appeared.

“Beau?!” 

“I’m dead?” He looked at me sympathetically. Of course I was dead. There wouldn’t be any other explanation. I should’ve realized that. I closed my eyes. 

“Beau-“

“Shh!” I sensed Edward tense but didn’t open my eyes.

_ BEAU! _

_ I’m here Bella. I’m so sorry. _

_ Can I see you? _

_ No Bells I don’t think so. _

_ Beau- _

_ I need to stay dead, do you understand that?  _

_ Why? I know you aren’t!  _

_ I know that! But as far as anyone else is concerned… _

_ Okay.  _

_ Okay?  _

_ I can do that. I’ll do anything... Just don’t go.  _

_ I’m here.  _

_ Are you coming tomorrow?  _

_ Where?  _

_ The funeral. _

I spoke to Edward without opening my eyes. 

“My funeral is tomorrow?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

_ Beau I need you there. Please.  _

_ You won’t be able to see me. _

_ But you’ll be there? _

_ Yes. _

“I’m going. Bella needs me.”

_ I have to go now.  _

_ Will you talk to me later?  _

_ Yes.  _

I opened my eyes. Edward stared at me with a blank expression. 

“Beau, what’s happening.” 

“I don’t know.” The answer was honest. The information sat on my chest like a stone. I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I sat down on the floor. Edward crouched next to me. 

“I talked to Bella. I just closed my eyes and said her name, and she was there, like in the woods. I’m not sure how-“

“Try it with me.” We closed our eyes. I shouted his name. Nothing. 

“I guess not.” 

“Interesting.” We sat there for a minute speechless. My decision seemed so easy when I made it, like a pebble in a pond. I wondered how many more ripples had yet to reach the shore. Would each one feel like this? I looked at Edward. He was deep in contemplation. 

“Do you regret it?” He said finally. 

“What?”

“Choosing me.” I carefully reached over and grabbed his hand. 

“You told me today that Alice only had visions of the future when I was like this, right?” 

“Or dead.” He added.

“So in every conceivable outcome of our relationship, I stayed.” 

“Yes.” He smiled slightly.

“Edward, we are tethered together.” I kissed his cheek and laid my head against his chest. He stroked my hair. 

“So, Esme?” He said it like a question.

“Esme.” I agreed. We stood and walked through the hallway to Edwards bedroom. It looked even more grand with my new eyes. He pointed to the closet. 

“Alice has gotten you a few things.” I groaned as I appraised the button down shirts, blazers, and chinos. There was a pair of brown leather boots that seemed promising though. I found some dark wash tapered pants as well. I went to dress then realized that Edward was still in the room. Lounging on his sofa. 

“Um…. would you mind?” 

“Mind what?” He seemed puzzled.

“Not… um… looking.” 

“You’re practically naked now Beau.”

“I have a towel!” I clutched the cotton defensively. 

“Very well.” In a Motion that would’ve seemed like nothing more than a blur two days ago, Edward jumped from the window in a front flip. Show off. 

The pants fit perfectly but I cuffed the legs up over the boots. All of the shirts were hideously guad. I found some more undershirts folded neatly. Those would do fine. I turned from the room to go find Esme. 

“Beau! No!” Alice appeared from nowhere. I froze.

“Alice please, you have met me haven’t you?” 

“But the shirts are so pretty.” She whined. “No one ever lets me dress them.” 

“Well maybe we can shop sometime together and-“

“DEAL!” 

“You’re in trouble now little B!” I heard Emmett call from somewhere else in the house.  _ Little B? Please god don’t let that stick.  _

“Alice?” She was cuffing my shirt and tucking in the front.

“Hmmm?” 

“I never got a chance to thank you.” She stepped back and smiled gently. 

“We’re going to be best friends. You’ll see. I never let my friends get into trouble, well not without me.” She winked and skipped down the hall. She motioned for me to follow. We stopped outside a door on the first floor. She opened it and gestured to go inside, shutting it behind me. 

At the other end of the room In a wingback chair by the fireplace was Esme. She looked at me intently. I closed the space between us and kneeled beside her. 

“They said you haven’t left this room.” She touched my hair lightly. “What’s going on?” 

“You look good.” I smiled, I loved compliments from Esme. They were always sincere. 

“Beau?”

“Yes?” She looked tense then. The next words from her mouth sounded like a choke.

“I’m so sorry.” Why did everyone keep apologizing to me?

“No, please-“

“Let me finish. I told you once, how I had a son die.” I nodded. “That Night when we got to you. Everything was chaos. You were screaming and crying. I looked down at you and watched you slip away. And I couldn’t…. I……..I just couldn’t bear to watch it happen again. I was so selfish. I kept thinking ‘I can’t do this again, I can’t’. And all the while you screamed and cried and begged for your mother. I didn’t even think I just…….. and by the time I had realized what I’d done I was so ashamed… Edward was there, he was yelling. He was angry. I shouldn’t have. I just couldn’t let you go.” The memory had clearly been taking its toll as she spoke, she slowed and stopped. I grabbed her hand. 

“This is what I wanted. Don’t you see that? I want to be here. I don’t want you to ever let me go.” I grabbed her into a hug. 

“I don’t deserve this.” 

“You’re wrong.” I separated us so I could see her face. “When I called out for my mom that night, it’s because I saw you..” Her stress uncoiled from her body.

“Really?” 

“You’re the only mom I've ever had.” She grabbed my face between her hands. “And now I get to have you forever.” 

“You don’t know what that means to me.”

She kissed my forehead and stepped back out of our embrace. I looked around the small room now and noticed my tiny painting on the wall. How insignificant and distorted it seemed now. I touched it with the very tips of my fingers. There had been a time when my whole world looked like my paintings. As if I was staring at it from under the water, like this afternoon with Edward. I looked around at the world I was in now. I had surfaced. 

“Beau!” Carlisle called from somewhere. 

“Let’s go find him.” I reached out for her and she wrapped her arm around me. 

Carlisle was in the massive living room. Emmett and Jasper sat on one of the couches watching a sport on TV I didn’t recognize. Esme joined them. They seemed pleased she was out of the room.

“Beau,” He addressed me. “Edward has been telling me about your…  _ conversations  _ we will call them. I was wondering if you might show me.” I looked him in the eyes.

_ Hello?  _ I wasn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows raised.

_ This is very interesting. _

_ Have you met anyone like this before? _

_ No.  _

_ Oh. _

_ Don’t be worried. Edward was telling me you talked to Bella as well.  _

_ Yes, when I closed my eyes.  _

_ And she was in your home? _

_ Old home. _

_ Well, yes.  _

“What’s going on?” Emmet and Jasper were no longer watching the game. I looked to Emmett.

_ Do you have to call me Little B?  _ His face split into a smile. 

“Cool.” Emmett grew on me more and more. I turned to Jasper. 

_ Do I still make you nervous? _

_ Yes.  _

_ Do you think you will ever move past it? _

_ Yes.  _ I nodded, that at least was nice to know. 

_ How did you get those scars? _

_ I only tell ghost stories at night.  _ He smiled in a dangerous way. 

“Rosalie!” Carlisle called and then spoke to me, “it will be interesting since you’ve never spoken.” Rosalie walked in slowly but stopped as far from me as possible. I looked into her burning gaze.

_ Hi Rosalie.  _ Her eyes widened and I knew she heard me but she didn’t respond. 

_ Sorry to disturb you. _

_ Are you done? _

_ Yeah.  _ She walked away. 

“Could she hear you?” Carlisle was back at my side. I nodded. The rest of the afternoon I spent with Carlisle and Edward trying to probe my mind. Eventually, while they were pouring over an old book, I managed to slip away. I tried the first door I got to and closed it silently behind me. I turned and found myself in a large garage. Behind the shiny Volvo were three cars I had never seen before. All classics, all in various stages of restoration. 

“What do you want?” Rosalie rolled out from under a vintage mustang. 

“Oh sorry. I was just trying to find a place to hide.” 

“Hide?” 

“Yeah Emmett keeps trying to wrestle me, Alice wants to dress me, and the rest all want me to say nothing over and over again in my head. Meanwhile Jasper watches my every move waiting for me to kill someone.” Why was I telling her this? She hated me. 

“What? It isn’t the fairytale you imagined?” She sneered. 

“I never thought it would be a fairytale, in fact I didn’t think it through at all.” Was there no limit to my oversharing? 

“Well, of course you didn’t! You had a choice. We didn’t, none of us did, but you did, and you chose wrong. You just saw all the dazzling things that you wanted and jumped in without thinking any of the consequences applied. You’re an idiot.” Rosalie was red. 

“Thank you.” I sighed. My comment threw her off.

“What?” 

“Everyone keeps treating me like I did some courageous thing…. I made a decision. I did my best to look out for everyone. It was the only choice I had, but that doesn’t mean it was a good one.” I glanced up at Rosalie who was turning some thought over in her head. I heard the door handle and flew under a car. 

“Rose, have you seen Beau?” I held my breath and didn’t move. Emmett walked over to Rosalie. 

“Yeah he came in but I told him to run along.” I heard him hug her. 

“Oh Rose. He’s really nice. I wish you wouldn’t stay mad at him forever. For me.”

“For you?” 

“Mmhmm.” He was kissing her. It was easy to see how much they loved one another. 

“Okay, okay. I won’t hate him forever, just three or four hundred years.” 

“Thanks babe.” Emmett chuckled and turned to leave. 

“Hey make sure to check the woods, big bear. Maybe he got hungry.” Emmett snarled playfully and Rosalie laughed. He left. 

“Thank you.” I wiggled out from under the car. “I had a thought though. You said I had chosen wrong.”

“Yes.” She eyed me carefully.

“But what if… what if it was Emmett? What if you had to choose. Could you make the choice? To leave him?” Rosalie thought for a moment. 

“No.” She finally relented. I could tell she didn’t like admitting I might have made a reasonable decision that night. 

“You probably would’ve done it with more grace.” I tried to puff up her ego. She flipped her hair and smiled. 

“Listen,” she was inches from my face in seconds. “I think you’re an idiot. But you also think that you are an idiot.” 

“Well I didn’t say-“ She interrupted me. 

“If you agree that you’re an idiot I think we can find a way to coexist.” I could tell this is the only middle ground we were going to find. 

“Okay, then. I’m an idiot.” She smiled.

“I know.” She turned back to her car. 

“What are you working on?” 

“Would you know if I told you?”

“Not a Chance.” She laughed, it was angelic. I leaned in and handed her tools when requested. 

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but it was dark outside. 

I went into Edward’s bedroom. He was sitting on the sofa and soft music was playing. He smiled as I entered. 

“I heard you made peace with Rosalie.” 

“Sort of.” I slumped lazily on the couch next to him. 

“I’m sorry for bombarding you this afternoon.” I looked him in the eyes. 

_ It’s okay.  _ He held my hand and we sat silently for a moment. I thought back to the first time I had been here. I could picture it somewhat hazily in my mind. I looked back at Edward. As I stared him in the eyes I thought of the memory. I pictured it the best I could, maybe I could show it to him. 

He was dazed. He blinked twice and shook his head.

“Can you do it again?” he wondered.His smile was so endearing. I showed him everything. The first day in biology, dinner in Port Angeles, the meadow. I replayed the memories over and over. They were getting less fuzzy. Edward sat in awe the whole time. 

“Now you know,” I said lightly, and shrugged. “No one’s ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

“You’re almost right.” He smiled, his eyes still a little wider than usual. “I know of just one exception.”

“Liar.” He started to kiss me again, but then stopped abruptly.

“It's nice to see your mind finally.” Edward kissed me. Without restraint I kissed him back.He put his fingers into my hair and pulled me deeper into the kiss. Everything felt new, he was still my Edward but now I could hold him and he could hold me. I pulled him towards me, pressing our bodies together. He moaned into my mouth. His encouragement was all I needed. In one fluid motion I swept him under me and pinned him to the couch. I heard him wince and the sofa break at the same time. I sat up. 

“Oops.” Edward laughed and kissed me once more. 

“I love you Beau.” He whispered. 

“I love you too.” We laid there for a moment on the broken sofa. 

“I think I need to hunt if I’m going to the funeral tomorrow.” 

“About that…” 

“I’m going Edward.” I stood up, I needed separation from his overwhelming control of my senses. 

“Beau I’m just thinking about your safety. Everyone’s safety. There’s no way you can guarantee being that close to humans.” 

“Alice said it would be fine.” 

“But The Blacks might be there…” 

“Edward we can have this conversation 1,000 different times and in as many ways as you want. This is for Bella. I’m going, and I need you to go with me. I can’t do it without you.” I grabbed his hand. “I couldn’t be safer with anyone else.” 

“I can’t argue with that. But I’m still worried. I think it’s a bad idea.” 

“Noted.” I kissed him and he sighed. He pulled me to the window. 

“Still need me to go slow?” Edward cocked an eyebrow at me. I did my best to smile a wicked grin, and jumped. 


	24. Eulogy

We came back from the hunt slowly. Walking hand in hand, pausing often to kiss or stare at one another. 

“Sing again.” Edward said suddenly.

“Sing what?” I laughed.

“The song from the lake. Your voice is beautiful.” If I could blush, I would have. I launched into my best Dino impression. Edward grabbed me into a lazy spin and turned me around the woods in big circles. I remembered telling Charlie just a few weeks ago that I didn't dance. I had changed in more ways than one. Being a vampire seemed so insignificant next to being myself.

“Beautiful.” He murmured again and began humming along. 

“ Do they take' em for espresso? Yeah, I guess so..” I dipped him into a kiss. I didn’t know what made me feel so playful, but I didn’t want to lose it.

“How do you know this song?” I stopped, I had jinxed myself.

“We had a neighbor who would watch us when we were little back in Phoenix. She was like a thousand, well she was to a six year old at least. She would make us listen to Rat Pack music and watch Clark Gable movies. Bella and I loved it. It seemed so magical to us. When she died, Renee decided we were old enough to stay home alone. Whenever we got nervous or scared we would sing those songs and pretend we were back at her house.” 

“She sounds very interesting.” He smiled very softly and began turning me again. When a finished the song I noticed we were on the other side of the river, I could see the lights of the house through the leaves. I dove into the river with my newfound grace. 

“Beau?” I heard Edward call from the shore.

“Yes?”

“I wish you would tell me more. More about your childhood.” I floated to my back and stared at the stars. 

In my silence he continued. “I just want to understand you, I feel like I keep getting sporadic glimpses. Guarded glimpses. I love you so much and I want to love every single part of you.”

“You’ll remember it. If I tell you, you’ll have it in your head forever.”

“I once shared my deepest secrets and fear with you. They are in your head forever.” I knew I was being unfair. Edward had shared his everything with me. He never withheld himself. I wanted to be myself now, all of me, and I knew he was right. He walked gently into the river and I stood to look into his eyes. 

_ Don’t say anything _

_ Okay _

I let the floodgates open. I watched his face as he digested the images I gave to him. I wished so badly I could cry. I spent most of my human life trying not to let anyone see me shed a tear. I showed him smashing bottles, saltine dinners, tiny bruises, sleeping under the bed. He saw Bella and I work three jobs between us to pay bills. He saw nights staying up until 4am just to finish homework after a double shift that started as soon as school let out, only to do it again the next day. I also showed him Bella winning a tiny plastic trophy for reading more books than any other third grader. My middle school art teacher Mr. Blaire giving me my very first sketch pad. The plant nursery I used to work at in the summers. Renee not coming home for days and her not leaving the couch for weeks. I showed him Joshua trees. I showed him more and more. It seemed selfish that I was feeling relief at his expense. I felt as if a chasm in my chest had burst open. He was seeing all of me spill out before him. His face betrayed him as I went, twisting in pain.

I plunged myself under the water, I couldn’t stand to see him that way. I pushed back up after a full second. He hadn’t moved, but his face was now controlled.

“Beau-” I looked at him gently.

_ Don’t say anything.  _

_ Beau, I love you.  _

He closed the space between us and pulled me into his embrace. He held me tightly, one hand on my back and one on my neck. There was nothing between us now, physical or otherwise. Despite what I had feared, I found that I had never been happier. When we finally parted he moved his hands to either side of my face and kissed me deeply. 

“Now you know why I have to go tomorrow. I have to be there for her. We’re ride or die.” 

“That’s a very fitting expression for you.” I laughed. Edward grabbed my hand and led me back towards the house. I sang to him again. I felt relief as a smile returned to his face. He began swaying me once more. The night could be recovered, in fact I felt now more than ever I could be safe and loved. He knew everything and he still swung me gently through the backyard in the glow of the house. 

I knew when the sun rose I would have to endure another long day. But for the time being I let myself be wrapped in the soft cover of the night. It felt as if nothing could reach us here, dancing inside a world that existed just for us.

  
  


Our feet made no sound as we walked through the woods. Edward held my hand and squeezed it intermittently. Thoughts raced in my head,  _ could I really do this?  _ I suddenly felt calm. I knew it had to be Jasper pacing quietly behind us with Alice. He was my safety net. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I can do this.”  _ I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. _

Edward wasn’t quite sold with my answer but kept quiet. We continued our silent journey through the trees. We walked slowly and in pairs. I wasn’t sure who had convinced Rosalie to come but she was in the very back with Emmett. Upon Alice’s request everyone was dressed in black and formally. I pulled at the tie around my neck. 

“Here is good.” Alice called. I couldn’t see anything but I could hear the rustle of people a ways off. I listened for voices; Charlie, Bella, Jacob, anyone. All I heard were grounds keepers. We must be early. I closed my eyes and ignored the burn in my throat.

_ Bella? _

_ We’re in the car. _

_ I’m here. I promised. _

_ Good.  _

_ We’re pulling up. _

_ I can hear you.  _

_ Charlie is crying.  _

_ I know.  _ I could hear everything happening. I thought about running. My feet wouldn’t move. 

_ I’m sorry Bells.  _

_ We’re all sitting down and then I have to go say some words.  _

_ Okay.  _

_ You won’t leave? _

_ No.  _ She was gone. She must’ve opened her eyes. I listened as people shuffled and took seats. After some time Bella began to speak. 

“Beau and I were not the type to have much to say. And now I have even less.” She sniffled. “As you Know we moved here from Phoenix. Beau loved Phoenix. He loved the sun, and the heat, and the sprawling landscapes. Everything here was so different for him. If you knew him you would think? Why would he do this? Well because there was something Beau loved even more, all of us. He found a way to love the green, and the rock beaches, and even school.” There was a light laughter. “He loved all those things because everyone he loved, taught him how they could be beautiful. Most of all he loved riding his motorcycle. When it wasn’t raining, he rode everywhere. He never had a bigger smile then when he was on his bike.” She paused and the next words were said through tears. “I will miss him every single day. I will never stop wishing I could see his face. There was a time when we were each other’s everything. I know that the part of him that loved me, that would do anything for me, will never leave me. He will always be my brother, forever.” There was silence and then a priest read something but I wasn’t listening. Her words sent swells of emotion through me. I felt everything at once. I would be her brother forever but I now realized how long forever would be without her. Someday I would stand back here as a familiar speech was given for Bella. I clung to Edward’s hand. I was still confident in my choice, but I knew now I would suffer for it. I looked at Edward, the pain would be worth it. I closed my eyes.

_ Bella, I love you okay?  _

_ I love you too.  _

_ What now? _

_ We bury you. _

_ Buried Alive  _ I thought the words in a dramatic haunted tone.

_ Beau!  _

_ It was a joke! _

_ I know but I can't laugh, I am at a funeral. _

_ Okay. okay. _

_ Are you sure I can’t see you? _

_ I’m sorry, I’m sure.  _

_ It really feels like you’re gone. _

_ I’m right here.  _ I pictured the woods in front of me for her. 

_ How did you do that? _

_ Just picture it.  _ She pictured the funeral, I saw everyone, I saw Charlie, I saw my empty casket. I felt like collapsing. Someone grabbed my free hand. I looked and saw Rosalie.

“I’m an idiot.” I said quietly.

“I know.” She whispered sympathetically. Edward looked like he had questions but kept them to himself. 

The funeral ended and everyone left. 

_ Bells?  _

_ Yes? _

_ Is it just you? _

_ Charlie went to get the car. _

_ Keep your eyes closed. Do not open them.  _

_ Okay?  _ I tore from Rosalie and Edward’s grip and raced forward. Jasper followed close behind but my speed was more than any of them could keep up with. I had a tiny window. I saw the graveyard come into view and Bella sitting perfectly still in a chair. When I saw her everything faded away. I heard the others stop running behind me. I Sprinted by her and tapped the back of her hand. 

“Beau-” She breathed. Before she could open her eyes I was back into the woods next to Edward. 

“I swear Beau if you don’t stop running off I’m going to leash you!” Edward was fuming as I took his hand. I ignored him and addressed Jasper instead.

“Why did you stop?”

“I felt it, when you saw her, I felt your love.” Jasper spoke in a low southern drawl. I smiled at him and he nodded. Alice skipped up next to me. 

“I told you it would be fine.” I threw an arm around her. Alice pulled out parasols for the girls and one for me. She played music from her phone, the kind you hear at New Orleans street festivals. I laughed. Everyone walked/danced back through the woods. Even Rosalie joined in, letting Emmett spin her around. 

I looked around at my new family. I remembered what Bella said about people I loved. I was sure to be happy for all eternity with the Cullens.

“Are you okay?” Edward had stopped and looked worried.

“I will be.” I opened the parasol and grabbed his hand. He didn’t seem convinced.

“We have plenty of time to work on it,” I reminded him.

“Forever and forever and forever,” he murmured.

“That sounds exactly right to me.”

And then we continued blissfully into this small but perfect piece of our forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for joining me on this journey! I hoped you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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